A year ago, I embarked on relaunching The Paxtonian with the promise to myself, and my staff, that I’d write, monthly, for at least the coming year. With the publication of this issue, I’ve kept that promise, missing just one month to a confluence of issues including Covid-19, and admittedly, writer’s block. Although reflecting on the trajectory of Paxton Gate, mulling over paths taken, and even recounting my favorite customer quotes, has been rewarding, it’s also challenging.

Reflecting On 30 Years

What’s Next for Paxton Gate?

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A year ago, I embarked on relaunching The Paxtonian with the promise to myself, and my staff, that I’d write, monthly, for at least the coming year. With the publication of this issue, I’ve kept that promise, missing just one month to a confluence of issues including Covid-19, and admittedly, writer’s block. Although reflecting on the trajectory of Paxton Gate, mulling over paths taken, and even recounting my favorite customer quotes, has been rewarding, it’s also challenging. To some degree it’s just a scheduling issue. With a lot on my plate, it’s tough to find the time to write a well-crafted, monthly piece, while allowing time for editing, image sourcing, formatting, and on-time publishing. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve dug through the Paxton Gate memorabilia boxes over the last year! The path I’ve taken—which was conceived as a newsletter (as in, here’s what’s going on right now)—quickly morphed into an account of my business challenges over the years, telling stories of the goings-on behind the scenes, and sharing other personal anecdotes. Because of this narrow approach, it created challenges in unearthing material for each month’s issue. Instead of calling it a newsletter, perhaps I should have called it a “memoir-letter,” a “business-diary,” or “Old Entrepreneur Reminisces.”

Ok, none of those flow off the tongue terribly well, but you get the point. If I’d kept to the traditional newsletter format, where I reflected on new products, or other things for sale at Paxton Gate, it might have been easier, but for me, far less rewarding. There’s certainly room for delving into detail about the products we carry, especially given the store-as-museum approach we practice at Paxton Gate, but somehow, I find it less genuine coming from me. And, in the end, I realized relaunching The Paxtonian was as much for me as it was for my readers. Sure, we want this to be a sales tool, but I’ve never been fond of being that direct. Whether face-to-face or in writing, I’d rather share knowledge and enthusiasm and inspire someone to shop at Paxton Gate or online, than write a salesy newsletter imploring them to do so. Finally, I am the only one qualified to write about the history of Paxton Gate from a personal perspective. It’s in this, that I have found the most reward. Yet, moving into 2023, I won’t be writing monthly, but may write as topics come to mind. Perhaps that will be interspersed with newsletter-like pieces or shorter blog-type posts. We’ll see.

It's quite apropos that this issue falls into the month in which Paxton Gate celebrates 30 years. What could be a more fitting “soft ending” for a 12-month run of The Paxtonian than reflecting on the last 30 years in business? Looking back at the 24-year-old “kid” who stumbled onto this concept, who learned along the way, and made plenty of mistakes, to where he landed now, it seems there’s plenty to talk about for, at least, one more issue. But first I’d like to “thank the Academy” so to speak, or more directly, I’d like to thank the many, many people who helped me to get to where I am today, including some who likely rescued Paxton Gate from numerous near deaths.

Thank You

Paxton Gate started on a next-to-nothing budget and was driven by dedication, hard work, and—most importantly—the generous donation of time and resources from my friends and family. For a brief history of the birth of Paxton Gate, see issue #16 of The Paxtonian. During the months that lead up to opening our doors, in early December of 1992, a flurry of work took place at 1204 Stevenson St. Co-founder, Peter Kline, and I worked endlessly to ready the space, going so far as to buy a manual pipe threader, learning how to use it, and constructing display structures that would realize the design that Gale Melton had conceived for the tiny space. Gale also painted the four trompe l’oeil monkeys that adorned the walls of the original location.  As with many friends, Gale got caught up in the excitement of the endeavor and offered her work pro bono, helping to stretch those few dollars even further. Other friends helped as well. Ethan Jewett, who I’ve known since my late teens, was a G-scale train enthusiast and helped to build a small mountain scene with a train constantly circling a track, chugging along, perched above the

retail floor. He also loaned us the train, and his mom helped with pro bono graphic design work in those early months. The “G” in G-scale stands for garden, and we became briefly enamored by these trains and the idea of building a miniature garden of small villages, meadows, living miniature plants, and rolling hills. We never sold someone on the idea, and along with the G-scale train, the dream became a remnant of the Paxton Gate archives. Jeff Lyon, who I’ve known for over 40 years, and Kip Waide were two other close friends who helped on more than one occasion, swinging hammers, painting, and anything else that was needed. Over the years, Jeff also provided many generous hours of childcare, while I worked ridiculous hours tending bar and at Paxton Gate. He also later hired me to design and build his bar, Third Rail helping to further my design career. Thank you to all of you as well as to the many other unnamed friends who helped.

I certainly need to thank my original partner, Peter Kline. He, and a fellow gardener Jeff, conceived the original “quirky gardening store” idea of which I became a part. Peter also deserves credit for awakening the gardener, designer, and builder within me. I grew up tending vegetable and ornamental gardens with my family in our rural northern California home, building barns, fences, a two-story fort, and everything else you can imagine on our property. I had the base knowledge and rudimentary skills, but my time with Peter spurred me to take it further. Due to his inspiration and early guidance, as well as countless trips to the SF arboretum, I found a calling I didn’t know was there.


One of my most supportive friends over much of Paxton Gate’s lifetime, has been David Steele, the founder of Flour + Water and a plethora of other endeavors. David was an early supporter of Paxton Gate, purchasing works at our art openings at the original location, and hiring me to design and build more than one garden, as well as his offices located in the same building as ours. David is

also responsible for Paxton Gate’s (now RareField’s) venture into hospitality design. I’ll never forget our conversation sometime in 2008. David and I used to climb together at Mission Cliffs. We were there, belaying one another and David was talking about his dream of opening a restaurant, finally coming to fruition. He was negotiating a lease for a space just a couple blocks from the gym and working on securing financing for the undertaking.

At one point, leaning on the rope, readying to scale the wall, David turned to me and said, “You should design my restaurant.” To which I replied, “I’ve never designed a restaurant.” In his typical, assured, you got this manner, David said, “You’ll figure it out. It’ll be fun.” Eighteen months later—which included a hardy mix of excitement and chaos—Flour + Water, my first restaurant design, opened to resounding success which led to numerous other projects, and an entirely new division of the design-build firm which was once just a small branch of Paxton Gate. In addition to this, David has shared an abundance of business know-how and has been a sympathetic ear during the ups and downs over many of the last 30 years. Since our early days on Stevenson Street, as our friendship grew, David has been generous with his time, helping with challenges I have encountered, assisting in how to respond to them, sharing strategies, and so much more. In many ways, David is my biggest fan and because of this, has helped to propel Paxton Gate and RareField even further than we could have gone without him. It’s clear that without David’s contribution, I wouldn’t be where I am today and for that I’m truly thankful.

Other supporters came via surprising paths. Josh Donald, who co-owns Bernal Cutlery with his wife Kelly Kozak, was one of my first employees. In fact, he and Kelly met while working at Paxton Gate which is another story entirely, perhaps theirs to tell! When Peter was leaving Paxton Gate and I was fretting running things by myself, he said something along the lines of, “That Josh is a good kid. I think you’ll be ok with him around.” In the following years, despite his employee status and his youth, Josh filled the gap left by my partner. I wasn’t accustomed to working alone and hadn’t yet become comfortable making decisions independently. To this day, I often lean on my staff, like one would a partner, working through ideas together. I turned to Josh, and he reciprocated. In fact, we worked so closely together, I think, that many customers thought he’d stepped in as a new partner. Looking through old memorabilia for this article, I came upon numerous cards and letters from the time addressed, “Dear Sean and Josh.”

When I took over Paxton Gate and said to myself, “Ok, I just purchased a failing business; what do I do?” it was Josh who helped launch the insect program. I had observed our customers’ growing interest in the Natural Science side of our quirky gardening store and purposely decided to dive in headfirst. With Josh’s help it was a success, and you can see how it’s dramatically evolved since then! Josh is one of those people who, once he finds a new interest, latches onto it, and digs deeper and deeper, gaining and retaining incredible amounts of knowledge. I witnessed him do this with insects as well as plants. Later, after our first trip to the Tucson Gem and Mineral show, he latched onto fossils and became our resident fossil geek. And then, after leaving Paxton Gate, he pursued his passion for knives and knife sharpening, which he and Kelly have built into a remarkable enterprise just a block away from Paxton Gate. I’m incredibly thankful for Josh’s involvement and, proud of how far he’s come. In fact, I now find myself looking to him and Kelly for ideas on how to run my businesses!

In addition to Josh’s contribution, his mom, Nancy Donald, had a notable impact on Paxton Gate. Early on, Nancy helped with pro bono graphic design work, I think, because she saw her young son genuinely interested in something other than punk rock and raising hell. At a time when most young adults would be galivanting around, Josh had found something that motivated him and sparked his interest, stoking a fire that would lead to many years of enthusiastic connection to Paxton Gate. As parents often do, Nancy wanted to guide Josh in a direction that seemed healthy and rewarding. She became so committed to this idea, that when I was trying to procure funds for the move to Valencia, and the SBA loan wasn’t going to be sufficient, she offered to help. Nancy generously proposed that she buy a partnership for Josh to encourage

him and to help Paxton Gate. Full of hubris, I valued the company at an astonishingly high figure because I thought, how much would I sell this for, rather than finding a value based on profits (or, in this case, lack thereof). When I shared that I’d be willing to offer a tiny, single digit percentage ownership for her investment, she decided to change her proposal to a loan offer. Without this loan, plus another from a surprising party, to supplement the SBA loan, we may not have been able to relocate to Valencia. Who knows what would have

happened if we remained tucked away in that little alley off an alley in our 300 square foot space. To this day, I’m grateful for Nancy’s confidence in me and for supporting my dreams. It’s also worth noting that after I paid off the loan, in the wake of the dot-com crash, Nancy said that her loan to me was one of her best investments at that time!



I also want to thank my family who have dealt with my absences, my inability to fully commit to family events, my emotional unavailability, and other stress-related transgressions. Various family members loaned me money over the years when I was in the hole and I feel privileged to have had access to this type of support. My great uncle and aunt, Hal and Betty, loaned me money, as did my mom, all of whom I thanked in person but feel obliged to do so here posthumously. My Aunt Jan not only physically helped me close the original location on Halloween of 1999 but loaned me money at some point to get me out of a yet another financial jam. Years later, when I went to pay her back, she insisted it wasn’t a loan, but a donation. Over the last decade, my schedule has become more regular, making my absences fewer and my availability much more predictable. Yet my wife, Whitney, has put up with quite a lot over the nearly 20 years we’ve been together, including me having to depart for the Tucson Show just days after the birth of our daughter, Fiona. Also, as many partners are, she’s often my ad hoc therapist and has heard me kvetch over the years on countless occasions with proclamations to the likes of, “It’s never been this bad.” “We’re not going to survive this!” Because of her immense patience, she learned that these difficulties—these “it’s the end of the world” events—were just part of being married to a small business owner, or at least this small business owner. Being the incredibly tolerant and self-aware person that she is, Whitney learned to take it all with a grain of salt. And, when I was freaking out, she dropped her concerns about us and was there for me. I thank both her and Fiona for their continued patience and support.

Just like they do at the Oscars, I feel compelled to rattle through a few more thankyous as the music gets louder, urging me to wrap it up. Thank you, Neil Spence, for helping to pull together the original 1990s Paxtonians and your friendship during those early years. Thank you to Tamara Seney, for your patience and tech support, back in the pre-internet as well as post-internet years. Thanks to Hugh D’andrade, my former roommate and a brilliant illustrator, who created our monkey logo for what seemed like a lot of money at the time but was a generous discount. Thank you to Jamie Lopez who created our first website and didn’t push back when I wanted it to look and function like an old book, and feel as non-digital as possible! She donated much of her time and when she did bill us, it was incredibly reasonable. Jill Tracy taught me quite a lot about writing a press release, which I employed for many years, bringing Paxton Gate much acclaim. Jenny Doll has not only done great graphic work for us, but many years ago surreptitiously designed and posted ads in the Noe Valley Voice during a particularly tough time for the company, bringing in much needed work. Thank you, Jenny. John Horn, who lived in the building above the original Paxton Gate, was often found in the shop, just helping out. Thanks John; I still have your hand-truck! Thanks to Todd Standish for his mural work over the years at steeply discounted pricing. And, finally, thanks to the many others I haven’t mentioned here as well as the scores of employees who’ve made their mark over the years.

The last person I want to thank will come as a surprise to many readers, especially if you’re a commercial renter, and that’s my landlord. Colbert Dare, the owner of the building that has housed Paxton Gate on Valencia since 1999, has been reasonable and easy to work with for over 20 years. He’s never taken advantage of the hype that hit Valencia in the mid-2000s and has been fair and realistic at each of our lease renewal negotiations. Although, each month when I sign that rent check, it feels like a lot, he’s never gouged me. Nothing compared to the horror stories I’ve heard from numerous business colleagues. Instead, he’s focused on the big picture, thinking long term about his building as well as the corridor as a whole. Colbert sees Paxton Gate’s presence on Valencia as a net positive that, over the long run, is good for the community, and by extension, his property. In fact, we’re just finishing a new 10-year lease extension that will take Paxton Gate into the 2030s! Finally, Colbert helped with financing early on, loaning me start-up money, which was a significant risk since we didn’t even know each other, and Paxton Gate had no history of profits to support paying him back. He believed in me and put his money behind it. Thank you, Colbert.

What's Next For Paxton Gate?

Thinking about Paxton Gate in the 2030s brings me to a place that’s occupied my mind for the last nine or ten years, which is: How will it survive without me? How will Paxton Gate and RareField continue for future generations without the founder at the helm, and how will they continue to support the employees? Sometime around 2012 I had a medical scare that got me thinking about my mortality. It probably didn’t hurt that I had recently stepped into middle-age, which is when one typically starts to think about these things. Fortunately, this life change wasn’t followed by the purchase of a new sportscar or illicit liaison, but instead an existential exploration into the future of my businesses. In the end, it was only a close call but, a bullet I dodged via self-diagnosis and insisting my doctor check it out. Had I not insisted, I may not be writing this today. Around the same time, Amit Gupta, who rented the space where we now have our offices, was confronted by a far scarier prognosis. He received the type of diagnosis where the doctor says, if you’ve got any chance of survival, you need to start treatment tomorrow. Against all odds—and by using some particularly inventive social media to find a bone marrow donor—Amit made it through his challenge. But, in so doing, he realized that his business—upon which many people depended for their livelihoods—relied entirely on his involvement. If he had died, so would have his business. After a long but successful treatment, Amit and I spoke about what he’d gone through. I felt incredibly guilty comparing my near miss to his life-threatening battle with cancer. But on the surface, they were similar or, in the very least, they got us both thinking, “What if…” When I had my scare, I went through the same thought process: What would happen if I died? Both Paxton Gate and RareField depend on me for their survival. Both companies support numerous people and even families. I certainly don’t run these businesses alone and, in fact, their survival depends even more on my incredibly committed staff than on me alone. But I play a role that currently can’t be performed by anyone else, especially, at Paxton Gate. This got me thinking about succession and guiding the businesses into the future. The problem? That’s all I’ve done over the last 10 years, is think about it


So, it’s here in this public forum—which is wholly unsuited for the task—that I find myself, again working through the problem, and still coming up against a wall. There are several scenarios that have danced around in my mind over the last decade. I could consider selling Paxton Gate to a younger person with more working years ahead of them. But Paxton Gate really doesn’t seem like the type of business one just sells with its greater value in the brand than in the bottom line. (There goes that hubris again: It’s worth too much to me!). And I’m not looking to get out of Paxton Gate, so selling it would be a bit too abrupt for me. Also, it doesn’t really solve the problem of having the business depend on an individual at the helm. If a new owner (young or old), were to die or otherwise be unable to run the business, then what? I could sell it to a group of people who’d run it, I suppose, but given the income it could generate for them, that might not make financial sense except as a passion project of some sort. I certainly don’t see a venture capitalist firm scooping it up and “monetizing” the Paxton Gate brand. So, then what?

Perhaps, I’m looking to find someone to take the helm in some capacity. It could be a partnership, where new and/or current employees become partners with me over time, learning to run the business and slowly over the years, moving into my current role. This might make more sense given my lack of desire to leave Paxton Gate. The best of both worlds, where I can work with someone toward this goal, but still be involved for the coming years. I’m nowhere near ready to retire, so it’s not a matter of the clock ticking on a beach front condo just waiting for me in Florida, but I’d rather not wait another 10 years to figure it out! There are some financial issues here that make this approach challenging. I could sell those partnerships to my employees which would mean they would have to come up with funds to make the purchase. This could be a challenge since none of us make a ton of money. Or, if I were to transfer ownership to them in some capacity then they’d have the tax burden of that ownership being given to them. In either scenario procuring the funds could be tricky.

If I’m being totally honest, part of the thought process here is that running two businesses is a challenge (Three was next to impossible when Curiosities for Kids was still open, which was part of the impetus for shuttering it.) One company inevitably gets more attention than the other, meaning the latter suffers from some degree of neglect. Over the past several years, most of my time has been spent overseeing RareField, the design-build company that was once a branch of Paxton Gate. This has been the default for several years, because RareField has needed my

focus to survive and ultimately thrive. As compared to Paxton Gate, the business was new, and needed development and nurturing. I’m fortunate to have highly skilled management and design teams working with me these days, and many of these people have skills beyond mine. But, despite this, with over 30 years’ experience designing and building under my belt, there are still things that I’m needed for, although, they’re growing fewer and far between. In addition, I carry our Contractor’s license and I effectively cover the

“C-suite” roles ranging from administrative, a modest knowledge of H.R. law, contract review, and financial planning. Because so much of my time is needed at RareField, there are times when Paxton Gate doesn’t quite get the attention it deserves. I’m still involved daily and work directly with my Paxton Gate team. Currently that’s comprised of Harrison who runs our website and oversees our marketing, Tash our office manager, Trace our buyer, Rosy the retail manager, and Kris our shipping-receiving supervisor. Without them, I’d be nowhere. Paxton Gate depends on their commitment, as well as their independence and self-determination, to be able to run things often with less-than-ideal management from me.

Maybe the solution for Paxton Gate is less about bringing in someone new and instead empowering my team to take the helm, over time. I have endeavored to do so over the last decade, but it’s a slow process and much easier said, than done. (Or I’m just not very good at it). Taking this approach, though, would mean that my role would need to be absorbed by my employees, all of whom already have plenty, if not too much, to do. Leaving a legacy for my employees as well as for our community is something that’s important to me. This has also gotten me thinking about forming an employee owned cooperative and transferring ownership to the workers over time. I’ve only touched on the research, but it’s potentially a means of spreading the responsibility while also staying involved in Paxton Gate’s future. I won’t get into the technicalities of it, but the basic structure would be that workers who are

interested in participating, would become part of a worker-owned coop from which Paxton Gate would source much of its labor force. Employees who don’t want to be part of the coop could remain employees of Paxton Gate. Over time, more of the ownership would be sold to the new coop empowering those employee-owners to run the company. The coop structure also lends itself to more of a democratic, or horizontally managed, business rather than the hierarchical, top-down approach, which could be good for the longevity of Paxton Gate. If you lose one person in a horizontal structure, it’s far less impactful than losing the person at the top of the pyramid to whom everyone reports.

With numerous options, each including its own set of pros and cons, I’ve raised more questions than I’ve found answers, so I leave the quandary to you, my readers, and the Paxton Gate community—and likely to my staff after they read this! Where do you see Paxton Gate in the 2030s or ‘40s? What’s the best path for a business that’s too big to run without me yet not big enough to manage itself? Through a combination of luck, perseverance, and the kindness of others, I’ve built this business over the last 30 years. I’ll be signing a new lease very soon ensuring another 10 years at our current Valencia location. I started Paxton Gate with little idea of where it would take me, somewhere along the way it became my passion and my career—if not my life’s work—as well, to some degree, as my “retirement plan” (though no financial advisor would recommend this approach), and now I find that it may be time for Paxton Gate begin to enter its next life, and for me to start slowly handing over the reins.

After 10 years of thinking about it, it’s time to make a move, yet knowing my pace, I may be ready to retire by the time I figure this out. But decisions need to be made; as they say, I could get hit by a bus tomorrow!

Closing Thoughts

I’ve been fretting over publishing this issue of The Paxtonian more than any other. I’ve read through it dozens of times, tweaking words, adding and removing parts, trying to get it just right, and hoping to ensure I haven’t forgotten anything or anyone. I sat down with one goal which was to thank the people who helped along the way, and the rest of the piece fell into place around that narrative. Yet, I worry that I’ve forgotten someone. Just days ago, I added two names to the thankyou list! So, it’s with humility and complete sincerity that I thank everyone that’s helped Paxton Gate over the last 30 years. In this instance, I’m thanking all of you who are not named above. Please know that if this universal praise speaks to you, then I am in fact addressing you.


—Sean Quigley, Founder




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