We know that everyone loves hipsters. They have brought such good to once horrible neighborhoods. We can’t help but thank them for displacing hard working, blue collar folk and replacing their dive bars and old fashioned, inexpensive delis with overpriced coffee shops, vegan bakeries and raw food restaurants. Trees look so much better now that they have bicycles chained to them. And hey, who needs a warehouse full of jobs when you can have a building full of loft apartments that no one can afford to live in? Little did we realize that these happening folk are unknowingly destroying America’s once thriving sock industry.
As you may well know, hipsters rarely wear socks. If they do, they wear black ones with their sandals, but for the most part they prefer to be sockless. Unfortunately their free-wheeling ways are a detriment to hard working Americans.
The sale of socks has dropped a whopping 42% over the past three or four years. Sock factories all over the US are closing down and entire towns built around this wonderful old industry are falling on hard times.
It was 1879 in a small town in Wisconsin when Charles F. Jorgenson was born. His parents were farmers, simple folk who came here from Norway or Sweden or wherever people named Jorgenson came from. Charles parents worked very hard to support their family of twelve and oftentimes, Charles had no stockings. Wisconsin gets really, really cold in the winter, so you could imagine how hard that must have been. So when Charles turned sixteen or so, he left home for New York City. He promised he would be the best sock maker this country had ever seen.
Charles’ journey into the sock history books wasn’t easy – he hitched across the country, doing odd jobs along the way and apprenticing in the sock trade whenever he got the chance. He learned all about double toes, re-enforced heels, ribbing, arches, crew, knee, women’s, toddlers, support hose… the list goes on and on. By the time he got to the big city he was a sock savant.
Eventually, Charles met a man named Frank McGerkerson and together in 1899 they opened up a modest factory in Brooklyn. The hosiery they produced was so famous, people from all over the world would insist on ordering only from them.
Charles wore socks every single day of his life after he made his first two bits from a pair of woollen mens crew socks. He died in 1962 at the ripe old age 83. As for McGerkerson, he got involved in an incident in a pool hall somewhere or something. No one ever really asked.
Sadly, today, Charles F. Jorgenson’s dream has come to a final end. His great grandson, Smitty Jorgenson, has told us that the original factory has been shuttered and will be turned into loft apartments with an organic garden on the roof and chain coffee shop / vintage clothing store on the first floor. When asked why he was closing the old family business, he told us that with the economy the way it’s been, more and more people are buying cheap irregular socks from dollar stores or from overseas and finally because of “those Goddamn, sockless, fucking hipsters.”