The Man Behind The Hat
By Vince Chavez

S. Grant Sergot, owner of Óptimo Custom Hatworks is the man behind the hat and he takes his position seriously. "You are dealing with people's egos, especially someone who doesn't feel comfortable wearing a hat. The hat has to match the personality of the wearer." Grant has taken great care in mastering this art. He is among the last remaining artisan of the American West. Adedicated craftsman, Grant finds it a challenge to take an unblocked hat and give it a form like a sculptor would a piece of art. "Folks will walk out of my store a whole different person. People's self-perception can change with a properly fitted and styled hat." The tailoring of the hat can accentuate a person's best features and play down the less desirable ones. For example, there are specific style techniques that a small frame person would wear that would be entirely different for a large framed person. Just buying a good hat is not enough - it has to be styled to suit you as an individual.

This hat maker lives in the Old Historic Mining Town of Bisbee, Arizona. This great little town is only 21 miles from the Legendary Western Town of Tombstone, Arizona. Nestled right in the mountains is this quaint turn of the century mining town with a historic shopping district. The town is filled with good restaurants, Grand Victorian hotels and bed & breakfasts, writers and artists. Originally from the Great Lake State of Michigan, Grant says, "Bisbee had everything I wanted out of life and good weather, too." Óptimo Custom Hatworks is located on historic Main Street in a Victorian renovated building.

Grant is famous for his original "Panama Hat." His hand woven Panama straws come from Ecuador, where this high grade weaving art comes from the descendants of the Inca Indian Civilization. "These weavers learn their art as children and devote their entire lifetime to the craft." Woven from finely selected "Paja Toquilla", a palmetto plant native to just Ecuador, they are supple and the most durable woven hat in the world. The Panama hats are graded from one to twenty in ascending order of quality, cost, and tightness of weave. A number 3-grade has the look of burlap, a number 10-grade will compare to cotton and a number 17-grade will be likened to silk. Movie celebrities have dropped in to buy an original Panama hat, Tom Selleck, Faye Dunaway, Richard Dean (from MacGyver), and John Deal (from Miami Vice).

Grant features over 200 hats in all sizes, styles, and price ranges. You can find custom-blended beaver, cashmere, hare and rabbit felt hats. I told Grant that I had a few good quality hats that for some reason I don't wear. He said they probably don't suit your style or personality. Bring them in and we can re-cut, re-shape and you will walk out with New Hats that you will like and most important you will wear!

Collecting the West
Prices for Old West Collectibles

Did you know you could spend $20,000 on a Panama hat? Óptimo shows us the kind of artistry that elicits this sort of deep-pocket spending. And, while the rest of the world finds high-end Old West collectibles at national shows and auctions, a stone's throw from the square on a neighborhood side street in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, Cayuse displays enough show-stopping antique Indian and cowboy art, photography, and beadwork to make any curator envious. Shown here, a beaded vest, apparently made for a woman whose horse was named Arrow, circa 1930, feature Paiute handwork - typical of their collection. Check out Óptimo hats at www.optimohatworks.com and Cayuse at www.cayusewa.com and Wahoo at 505-820-6069

Panamas with Panache
Story & Photos by Joseph Pier

As you walk up the narrow main street of Bisbee, Arizona, you might feel that time has not passed through here since the 1950's, when the Copper Queen Mine was in full swing. On thecorner, nestled among trendy shops and art galleries, is Optimo Custom Hat Works. The display window in this pie-shaped building gives only a hint of the beautiful array of Panama hats that await inside. We are met by the owner- Bisbee's most renown artisan, S. Grant Sergot, who gives us an introductory tour of his shop and working studio. Throughout the store, a variety of hats stand like sculptures of straw on display. He ushers us toward the back of this renovated Victorian building, where his workshop is located. The rustic brick and the glow of his work lamps give warmth and character to the room. "I want my friends and customers to feel comfortable and relaxed when they come to the shop," he states, as we sit at his work bench and start our interview.

A native of Michigan, S. Grant Sergot decided in his early twenties to go to Oaxaca, Mexico, where his mother lived and worked as a sculptor. "On my way south, I stopped at the Grand Canyon. Its refreshing blue skies and clean air was a big change from the winters in Ann Arbor. It was at this time that I heard about Bisbee, a mining town which had slowly grounded to a halt, and where the price of real estate was good. I arrived in 1974, and was immediately sold on the idea of settling here," Grant recalls. After spending six years promoting local artists, he decided to take some time off and travel through Latin America. His adventures led him to Equador, where he discovered the beauty and versatility of Panama hats. Hand woven by the descendants of the pre-Hispanic Inca culture, these straw hats are woven from carefully selected "Paja Toquilla." This palmetto plant, native to Ecuador, offered Grant a new form of sculpting. "The hats are a form of fiber art... the fine weaves, the molding and shaping, which when finished, offers me a more gratifying and satisfying feeling than other forms of sculpting." Taking a moment to show us some of his recent creations, he is careful to point out the different types of weaves. "The hats are graded from one to twenty in ascending order. Fino hats begin at ten and a fino fino hat qualifies at twenty," he explains. "The fineness of the hat is determined by the quality of the straw used and the tightness of the weave." Holding up two hats to a light he demonstrates the weave pattern on grade 17 which he likens to silk and the larger pattern on grade 10 which he compares to fine cotton.

Self taught in the art of forming the hats, he returned to Bisbee and opened Optimo Custom Hat Works, where he has been custom-fitting "Panamas" for about five years. When asked how he determines the correct hat for a certain person, he compares it to a form of over-the-counter theater. "You are dealing with people's egos, especially someone who doesn't feel comfortable wearing a hat. The hat has to match the personality of the wearer and how it will be used. It's important to match the shape of the hat to the body form and body language." This is an art Mr. Sergot has mastered.

His hat styles for men and women vary from fedoras to the Tom and Tami Mix cowboy hats. The prices range from $20 for an unblocked hat to $3,000 for a grade 17. This compares favorably to Sante Fe, where high grade hats sell for as high as $9,000 and in San Francisco, the same grade sells for $15,000.

Some of his famous shoppers include Faye Dunaway, who bought three, and Tom Selleck, who bought one for himself and one for his wife. Michelle Pfeiffer, Richard Dean Anderson (from MacGyver) and John Deal (from Miami Vice) are also proud owners of an Optimo hat. He caters to a variety of people from stylish golfers, who use them to shield themselves from the Arizona sun, to people just wishing to make a fashion statement. "For me, the payoff is seeing customers' self-perception transformed when the walk out the door wearing their Panama hats," said Sergot.

With orders for his custom "Panamas" increasing beyond his capability, Grant had to train two additional people in the art of hat sculpting. The average wait for a custom hat is about 6 to 8 weeks, not bad when you consider you are not just getting a hat, but a piece of art, molded and shaped to meet your style and personality!

Translation of Caption: Grant Sergot has been making hats for almost 30 years in Bisbee, Arizona, in his Óptimo hat store and his creations are exclusive.

The Last Craftsmen -- 5 area artisans make leather goods, metal works & more, the old-fashioned way.
by Paul Morris
photography by Rebecca Ross

In the early morning, the ringing sounds of hammer on metal echo down a Tucson street as a blacksmith slowly shapes a twisting piece of iron. Soon it will become a gatepost. Or perhaps part of a headboard. The man with the big shoulders won't know what it will be until the fire and hammer reveal its future form to him.

A few blocks away, a man with a long black ponytail sits quietly on a stool before a sheet of turquoise leather. He pauses and studies the sheen on the flawless surface. With his right hand, he takes a sharp blade and begins to slowly cut a design through the leather destined to become a briefcase.

And in the old mining town of Bisbee, a hatmaker picks up a felt hat that he found at a garage sale. He paid $6 for the crumpled hat, thinking, perhaps he could make something of it.He places the brim into a plume of steam and slowly, gently begins to turn the edge up into a stylish curve. Yes, a bit of its style remains in the felt, just waiting to be shaped into view.

These are among the last remaining artisans of the Old West -- a few serious craftsmen, who strive for historical authenticity in their wares and use many techniques from earlier centuries. People who believe that the old ways are often the best ways to do things if you want them done right. These artisans could perhaps make a better living if they sold mass-produced crafts, but they choose not to. They work to create one-of-a-kind utilitarian crafts. Excellence and creativity are the driving forces in art like this, and to visit these people is like taking a time machine back to an era when quality and beauty reigned. Here is the story of five artisans of the Old West.
Grant Sergot in Bisbee is one of the few remaining traditional, authentic hatmakers in the country. His store, Optimo Custom Hatworks, on historic Main Street, offers a chance to see classic hats in all their glory and to find the one hat that you must wear home.

Sergot's store is one of the few places in the Southwest where you can purchase a Panama straw hat and have it shaped to fit your head (and personality). Panama hats (which actually come from ecuador) are created from palmetto plants by highly skilled weavers. Think of it as fiber art. The weaving's grade runs from one to 20, based on the quality of the straw and the tightness of the weave. A number- 3 grade has the look of burlap, while a number- 14 grade feels like fine linen. The grade- 20 hats are very rare, because only a few living weavers can still produce such an intricate and delicate quality.

Sergot offers a variety of styles and grades of hats to choose from. Do you fancy yourself in a Sam Spade fedora or as Indiana Jones? Are you a fan of Tom Mix's 10-gallon hat or would something smaller be better? These are difficult choices if you're a hat novice, but here the selection of a hat can include a discussion of your personality (bold or shy), how you'll use the hat (for hiking or dress affairs), and the social attributes of various hatbands (the bigger, the more formal the hat becomes). This allows Sergot to match a person to the right hat. It's a bit like going on the Dating Game and taking home a winner.

Once the right hat is chosen, Sergot shapes it with an antique hat steamer to improve its fit or modify its style and then adds a hatband of your choice. All this takes time to do right, so hats are usually mailed to the buyer.

If you prefer a felt hat, Optimo Hats can help you. In the back of the store sit a series of wooden hat forms (known as "block heads") used in the elaborate sizing and shaping process. The hat is placed over the form, steamed, and left to dry. Then the brim is placed in another series of forms to be steamed, shaped, and dried. This time consuming process requires hours of attention and handwork. That's one of the reasons these are great hats-- headware that can be passed down to another generation and has a distinctive style and beauty all its own. But don't take my word for it. Ask customers like Tom Selleck and Faye Dunaway.

From the Arts & Entertainment Section of the Arizona Republic:Outre limits: Funky, free-spirited Bisbee a magnet for artists

Straw Boss
The incomparable - but misnamed - Panama hat
By Tom Miller

I spent three years, off and on, chasing Panama hats all around the Americas and never once traveled to Panama. The reason is simple: Panama hats come not from Panama but from Ecuador, the low-profile country in South America that's known for its natural beauty (the Andes and the Galapagos Islands) and its natural disasters (draught and earthquakes). Panama was the international trading post for South American goods before the 20th century, and Ecuadorian straw hats passing through took on the name of the point of purchase rather than their place of origin. Panama has reaped the goodwill the hats generate, much to Ecuador's distress.

Panama hats accentuate the extremes of the people beneath them and magnify their personalities. Writers like Tom Wolfe and Garrison Keillor gain an extra measure of élan by wearing Panamas. They're easily identifiable in spring and summer women's fashion ads. These straw wonders are a remarkable handicraft, spanning countries, cultures, hemispheres, economies, lifestyles and fashions.

To write The Panama Hat Trail I first traveled to Ecuador's lowland jungle, where every morning barefoot field workers set out from their settlements with machetes and pack mules. They return the same evening, their mules burdened with piles of green toquilla straw. The straw undergoes a primitive process of repetitive boiling and drying until its ready for shipment to a warehouse in the port of Guayaquil and, from there, up to small villages in the Andes.

You and I consider the Panama a stylish accessory. To wear one in the Andes, however, labels you a member of the poorer classes, the Indian and non-Indian peasants, called cholos. These are the people who, since the mid-19th century, have diligently turned toquilla hat weaving into a cottage industry. Their hats are firm, often lacquered for durability, and worn by everyone from toddler to grandparent. In a novel set in Cuenca, a city of more than 150,000 where the hat trade is centered, I read of a newborn girl nicknamed "the little weaver." In the book, a resident claims, "Baby girls are often born with toquilla straw in their hands." Another adds, "With the hat already begun!" In the town of Biblián, I met a woman in her early nineties who, we computed, had woven some 14,000 Panama hats in her lifetime.

From the city of Cuenca to the most obscure and inaccessible towns nearby, women - and some men - weave straw hats as they cook, care for their babies, tend animals, cultivate vegetables, sit and gossip, trudge to market, shop and return home. Cuenca is a formal city, with churches and shadows, cobblestone streets and weather-beaten Indians. A book describes the city thus: "Always cool enough to be mildly invigorating to mind and body, yet never cold, it is unexcelled as a place for dreamy loafing." Cuenca's qualities have held up during the 70 years since that was written. Its weavers still take strands of straw in hand to carefully weave the rosita, the button at the top of the hat, and then add row after row of design until the crown and most of the brim are complete.

A hat can take anywhere from a day to a month or more to complete, depending on the straw, the delicacy of the weave, the skill of the weaver, the pliability of the material and the demands of the marketplace. If you visit Cuenca or the small towns nearby on straw-market day, you see hundreds of weavers clutching their weekly labor by the loose straws that encircle the hats when they're done. At this stage, the Panamas are called hat bodies, and the middlemen who buy them from the weavers for about 60 cents each (except the ones of very high quality) pass them on to the hat factories in Cuenca to complete the outer brim and to bleach, fumigate, dye and shape them before they're exported. In countless conversations with weavers I tried over and over again to elicit some sense of pride in the craftsmanship, but their responses all centered on the necessity of weaving to support their families. Nonetheless, to walk among the wavers on market day as they sell last week's hats and buy enough straw for the next week's is to witness a process more than a century old, an integral step in the trail from a Panama hat's seed to its sale.

The weaver's hats spend a week or so at the Cuenca factories (many of which will open their doors to visitors) before shipment out of the country. The hats range in quality from the comfortable garden variety to high-fashion numbers.

Although Cuenca produces quality Panamas at all levels, Ecuador's very best sombreros de paja toquilla come from Montecristi, a little village near the Pacific coast. Just as the magic name Havana signifies the best in cigars, "Montecristi" translates to the highest standard in the Panama-hat trade. Hats there take longer to weave, cost more to buy, are harder to find. Shoppers can find them since stores usually have some in stock, but the wholesalers must rely on a dwindling number of master weavers in the wooded countryside south of town. The low wage these highly skilled craftsmen are paid discourages the next generation from taking up the same line of work; they can earn more picking crops or finding low-end jobs in the city or even weaving curios and Christmas tree ornaments.

The finest Montecristi can slide through a napkin ring and snap back to its original shape. The extremely rare classics are smooth as silk and fine as linen. Turn them upside down and they'll hold water. Part of the ceremony of giving an unblocked Panama is presenting it cradled in a balsa-wood box with the flag of Ecuador stenciled on top next to the words Montecristi Fino.

Importers are demanding more variety in their Panamas, especially in women's hats, and open-lace weaves and rounder crowns have added to the range already available. But buyer beware: imitation Panamas from the Orient, usually called Shantungs, have crept into the marketplace. These are cheap low-quality look-alikes. Before you buy it, make sure your Panama is handmade in Ecuador.

Most of the hats exported from Montecristi go straight to wholesalers and retailers. The bundles from Cuenca often go to major hat factories in the United States. I followed a bunch to Garland, Texas, where Resistol Hats maintains a huge plant that turns hat bodies into finished Panamas. Many become straw cowboy hats, the lightweight alternative to the bulkier and more expensive Western felt hats. One of the jaunty Sunday-afternoon-in-the-park hats I trailed ended up in a shop in downtown San Diego, where a longtime straw-hat junkie came in for his annual fix. After paying $35 for it, he told me how he and his brother-in-law like to buy hats and give them to each other and to friends. "You know," he said, "a man looks so different in a hat. To give another man a hat - well, there's something about it that creates and bond. It's a lasting friendship."

Arizona Hamlet Gets Hip

by Marco R. della Cava
USA TODAY October 5, 1995

Bisbee, Ariz. -- A small crowd has gathered in the saloon of the Bisbee Grand Hotel. Frustration flashes in some voices, anger in others.

Yet another fire has claimed a Bisbee home. The group thinks an arsonist is to blame. Talk turns to vigilantism.

While they're not the Bisbee Mob of 1881 (that pack tore into nearby Tombstone and lynched a man whom a judge had set free), tonight's saloon visitors remind one of this town's rough-and-tumble roots.

In many charming ways, Bisbee remains a prisoner of yesteryear. And that time-capsule quality has trained a broadening national spotlight on the town that copper built.

Travel & Leisure has flagged Bisbee as "The Next Sante Fe," while Rolling Stone recently dubbed it a "hot vacation spot." None of this is news to hippies, who first encamped here in the '70s, establishing an arts colony whose poetry festivals attracted the likes of Allen Ginsberg.

That aura remains, echoed in today's poetry readings, concerts and art galleries filled with wild landscape paintings and abstract sculpture.

But while there is excitement about Bisbee's new-found fame, some residents are wary of being hot-spot homeowners.

"We're like a diamond that's finally been cut," says Rick Hossman of Mule Mountain Trading, one of two dozen shops and galleries that dominate this hamlet of 3,000. "The people make it special. I'd like to see things stay that way."

Bisbee sits in a natural bowl in the Mule Mountains. At an elevation of 5,000 plus feet, it is spared Arizona's searing heat. While there isn't much to do here (window-shop, tour the Copper Queen mine), the town explodes with atmosphere.

At night, lit by meager strands of dim bulbs, Bisbee recalls an Italian hilltop village. By day, its undulating, sinuous streets bring to mind San Francisco in the 1800s.

Bisbee was founded in 1880, and copper soon drew as many as 20,000 people. The town commanded its own stock-exchange board, where men would gather to watch their money's fate. The site is now the Stock Exchange bar, the battered green chalkboard standing silent tribute to Bisbee's roaring past.

When the reigning mining company, Phelps Dodge, closed shop in 1974, the town was on its last legs. Hippies seeking sun and cheap living saved Bisbee from becoming another Arizona ghost town.

"I first came in '74. Paper bags were blowing down the streets. It seemed like every day was Sunday," says Grant Sergot. "There's a tremendous creativity here. I don't know if it's the metals in the air or just having time to think."

Sergot channels that creative energy into his craft: fashioning straw hats per customers' specifications at his Optimo Custom Panama Hatworks. Only shops in San Francisco and Sante Fe provide such intimate service, he says, and at higher prices.

The quality of the straw weaving ranges from Grade 1 (course, $20) to Grade 20 (virtually seamless, $5,000-plus). Faye Dunaway bought one. And a few months ago, Tom Selleck, in the area shooting Showtime's Ruby Jean and Joe, popped in and got two.

Bisbee's steady stream of foreign visitors (many Germans and some Eastern Europeans) seek out Sergot's wares. And so do locals able to afford booming housing prices.

"Property values have doubled or tripled in the last five years," says Doris Turner of OK Property Management and Real Estate. She says a fixer-upper going for $5,000 in 1975 now would fetch $50,000-plus.

Nonetheless, Bisbee's hills remain dotted mostly with modest tin-roofed homes.

A walk up Brewery Gulch, named during the days when beer flooded miners' eager mouths, finds life subdued. Children play, wind rustles the trees, laundry waves lazily.

As one climbs, the gulch narrows and homes decay. Car doors keep a porch chair company. Cracked steps lead to an empty foundation. The faded sign on an old grocery advertises Carnation Ice Cream.

Suddenly, a mutt rounds the corner. He stops, looks up, then hangs his head and continues up the path. Somehow, you know he's not lost. And therein lies Bisbee's intoxicating appeal; it is a town fast dissappearing from the American landscape, a friendly place where everyone knows your name.

That's why Cristina Plascencia came. She spent the past few decades in Carmel, Calif., and watched that seaside village get super trendy. A few weeks ago she opened 55 Main, an art gallery for everything from South American crafts to dolls tacked onto crucifixes.

"I watched Carmel go from an artist community to a resort community. Here, artists can afford to be starving artists," she says with a smile. I found I missed belonging to a small group of people who are accountable to each other."

Not to mention tolerant.

"You'll go to a bar and see a gay person, a lawyer and a cowboy all sitting together, arguing over who's going to buy the next drink," says Hossman. Indeed, the stretch of Highway 80 near town is kept clean courtesy of the local gay and lesbian community.

Adds Plascencia, " You think 'small Arizona town' and you assume conservative and redneck. But we're progressive."

With Bisbee starting to attract more and more attention, hat master Sergot exhorts anyone moving here to "please get involved in the community."

A lack of that sentiment has brought much-publicized unrest in Sante Fe, whose residents blame the idle and often absent rich for ruining their once tight-knit town.

Says Hossman: "We're being compared to Sante Fe, but I don't want that. I don't want to stop being a town and start just being a tourist attraction."

Not to worry. On each storefront window hangs a photocopied, hand written note, evidence that tragedy only fuels Bisbee's communal spirit.

It reads: "Fire clean-up for Jill. Bring rakes, shovels and a shoulder to cry on."

The Art of Millinery
S. Grant Sergot

Artist Profile

At one time, every city had a milliner. People wore hats and the milliner was an important shop on Main Street. Today, the tradition is nearly a lost art. In Bisbee, a town that keeps alive an Old World charm, Óptimo Custom Hatworks provides fine-quality, hand-woven Panama hats from Ecuador, custom blended beaver, cashmere, hare and rabbit felt hats, custom service and hand finishing.

S. Grant Sergot started shaping hats in 1972 and established Óptimo hatworks in Bisbee in 1983. His philosophy: "I want to assure the quality of association between you and the correct fit, the type of weave, the grade of straw or the blend of fur-felt, the style of hat and the desired trimming." His shop does not just sell hats; it provides personalized service as well as renovation. Grant says that before you can have a hat made to order, "I need to talk with you personally, even if over the phone, to let you know what is available. I need to discuss your hair color, eye color, skin tone, facial features and the type of hat to fulfill your desired need."

His shop has received notice in many travel magazines and newspapers because of its novelty, and its location in Bisbee, a small community dedicated to preserving the arts and flavors of a bygone era. 

Best Panama Hats and Milliner Renovator
TrueWest magazine - The Best of the West
Óptimo Hatworks
Bisbee, Arizona

Grant Sergot of Óptimo Hatworks in Bisbee, Arizona, has one of the best little ol' hat shops in the West. Grant also outfitted our O.K. Corral photo-shoot (see pages 80-83), but that didn't influence our decision to include Óptimo Hatworks in "Best of the West." Óptimo makes a superior Panama hat and does excellent hat renovations. Grant's high-end hats sell for $20,000 and take 12 months to weave. In addition, cowboys, businessmen and customers from Cairo (no joke) come to Óptimo Hatworks to re-fashion their favorite hats. "Word of mouth," Grant tells us, "has been incredible." You can't beat that. 

No Ordinary Hat
Practice safe sun - and appreciate amazing artistry - with a custom made panama
By Karl Samson

When I was 16, I bought a suede hat. I knew even then that I was a hat person. Over the years I've worn British driving caps, berets, and straw hats. But the first time I saw a genuine panama, I knew I had to have one.

That first glimpse occurred in Bisbee, Arizona, where I happened upon Óptimo Custom Hatworks Milliner/Renovator. Straw hats filled the display window - but the variety of styles and the artistic way they were displayed said these were no ordinary hats. These were the real thing - genuine panamas straight from…Ecuador.

That's right: Despite the name, panamas are made in Ecuador. It is widely believed that they came by their name in the 19th century, when sailors would purchase them in Panama - a common transshipment point for South American goods.

These days, panamas are worn not just by sailors, but by men and women from all over. They're manufactured from the fronds of palmettos and, depending on the fineness of the weave, take anywhere from a few days to 10 months to make. The highest quality hats, known as fino finos, can sell for upwards of $20,000. However, Óptimo has panamas for as little as $125. That may seem pricey, but not when you consider that these hats are custom-fitted by store owner Grant Sergot. Sergot not only sizes each hat to fit but also shapes each one to the customer's specifications.

Because most customers have never owned a custom hat, Sergot makes sure that each gets just the right one. However, "a person's idea of what they want may be different from what we actually put on them," says Sergot, who likes his hats to reflect the personality of the wearer.

Though panamas are a great way to keep the sun off your face, they are much more than functional fashion accessories. "I feel like I've given each hat a special character or soul," says Sergot. "Once you've had a panama straw hat, you get spoiled."

A Day in the Life of S. Grant Sergot, man of many hats
February 8, 1996
by Mary Ellen Corbett

He has three years toward a master's degree in social work. He was a timber faller in the lumber industry. He has worked as a waiter and a maitre d'. He has been the subject of numerous newspaper and magazine articles. He has sculpted in marble and alabaster.

S. Grant Sergot is a man of many hats.

The Bisbee entrepreneur, owner of a custom hatworks at 41 Main St., now plys his artistry at Optimo, in the historic district, where he fits raw body hats imported from Panama, molding and shaping them along classic lines until he gives them what he describes as "form appropriate to the wearer."

A visit to Sergot's shop feels like a step back in time, to another era, when a choice of hats was the serious decision of every elegant gentleman and lady.

He features some 200 hats in his establishment -- all sizes, styles and price ranges. There are casual, formal, sun and business styles, for men, women and children, all made of the paja toquilla plant of Ecuador and Central America. His handwoven Panama straws come from Ecuador where they are crafted by descendants of the Incas who first wove the plant for water vessels. "These weavers learn their art as children and devote their entire lifetimes to it," he is eager to explain to customers who come to browse or to learn about his product line. "Sometime I would like to bring some of them here, to demonstrate their craft in some public way."

Prices for Sergot's hats can range from $20 to $300... from $6,000 or $9,000, he said, and the choice of bands -- all bias cut hem facings -- contributes to the uniqueness of each creation.

The grade of the weaving and the intricacies of the pattern determine the value, Sergot told The Bisbee News.

"Grade three looks like burlap," he said, " with grades 10 and 11 resembling cotton weave. By grade 14, it is looking like linen, and 15 has the appearence of silk. Seventeen looks like fine silk," he continued, " with 20, the finest weave, resembling heavy paper."

Sergot said once a customer has chosen a particular shade and grade of weaving, picking the specific brim and crown height, he begins his artistry. Using Eastern closed-grain wood hatblocks and steam for the shaping process, Sergot puts the soul into the hat.

Eventually, he said, he hopes to set up a complete basement studio to show visitors the many facets of an operational hatworks.

How did he master this unusual craft?

"It's self-taught, really. It has evolved from experimentation, trial and error. I had to learn about drying times, moisture content, about shaping, about styles..."

Incas began weaving thousands of years ago and hats date back to prehistoric times, Sergot said. Only in the past 50 years have people not relied on headgear. "That's one of the reasons there is so much skin cancer today. People need that protection from the sun. Medical factors will heavily influence fashion in the future," he said.

This is an article from a German Magazine, 

 Der Kleine.

It has been translated using Google Translator

for your enlightenment and entertainment!

Author and photographer, Ingrid Schindler, was here in Bisbee on a familiarization tour for nine international writers. The tour was created by Ilona, director of the Bisbee Visitor Center, and the AOT (Arizona Department of Tourism).  You can see photos of the creation of Ingrid's Optimo hat under the "Making of a Hat" link on this web site.

Sengende Sonne, silberne Trailer, wilder Westen

Der Südosten Arizonas liegt abseits der Attraktionen des Grand Canyon State und bietet Cowboy-Nostalgie pur. Es locken einstige Boomtowns, romantische Ranches und eine Pflanzen- und Tierwelt wie in Mexiko.

Scorching sun, silver trailer, wild west

The Southeast Arizona is located off the attractions of the Grand Canyon State offers cowboy pure nostalgia. Tempting former boom towns, ranches, romantic and a flora and fauna, as in Mexico.

Der Ort ist berühmt für seine Brutaliat: Ohne Mord und Totschlag w.re Tombstone so mausetot wie die Revolverhelden auf seinem Friedhof. Dort dreht man übrigens besser keine Steine um – wom.glich landet man dabei selbst im Grab. Denn darunter lauern Klapperschlangen, giftige Echsen oder Skorpione. Nein, der Süden Arizonas ist kein Terrain für unbedarfte Spazierg.nger. Immerhin: So friedlich wie heute war Tombstone noch nie. Die Ortschaft hatte mehr Glück als andere aus dem Wüstensand gestampfte Boomtowns im Old West, die ihre Existenz den Edelmetallenin den roten Bergen verdankten. Als Ed Schieffelin 1877 hier nach Silber suchte, hatte er den Spott der Soldaten von Fort Bowie in den Ohren.

Alles, was du dort finden wirst, ist dein Grabstein, sollen sie ihm nachgerufen haben. Der Glücksritter wurde fündig und taufte den Ort Grabstein. Ein Jahr spater versuchten 6000 Abenteurer und Outlaws in Tombstone ihr Glück, keine zehn Jahre darauf war die Stadt eine der gr.ssten zwischen San Francisco und New Orleans.

The place is famous for its Brutality: Without Murder and manslaughter Tombstone were Sun stone dead as the gunmen in his cemetery. There is no better way, one turns to stone - wom.glich you land here, even in the grave. For, lurking among rattlesnakes and poisonous lizards and scorpions. No, the southern Arizona is not a ground for innocent Spazierg.nger. All the same, so peaceful as now Tombstone's never been. The village had mashed luckier than others from the desert boomtowns in the Old West, which owed their existence to the precious metals in the red mountains. When Ed Schieffelin was searching for silver here in 1877, he had the mockery of the soldiers from Fort Bowie in the ears.

All you'll find there is your tombstone, they should have called after him. The adventurer was baptized and find the place tombstone. A year later 6000  tried adventurers and outlaws in Tombstone her happiness, not ten years later, the city was one of the gr.ssten between San Francisco and New Orleans.

 Dank Schiesserei überlebt

Als es nichts mehr zu holen gab, zog die Meute weiter. So erging es rund 50 Städten in Arizona, die alle um 1880 entstanden und kurze Zeit später zu gottverlassenen Ghosttowns wurden. Tombstone blieb dieses Schicksal erspart – dank einem Gunfight am O. K. Corral, einem Gehege. Die Schiesserei wurde von Hollywood entdeckt, immer wieder neu verfilmt und die «town too tough to die» somit selbst zum Star. Heute schlagen keine von Hollywood aufgemotzten Helden à la Wyatt Earp, Johnny Ringo oder Doc Holiday die Tür zu Big Nose Kate’s Saloon auf, sondern Touristen aus aller Welt. Im Schatten einer Weisseiche sitzt Jerry Sanders und schiebt seinen Cowboyhut in den Nacken. «Mein Grossvater hat Johnny Ringos Leiche hier gefunden », erzählt der Rancher, der wie seine Vorfahren im Südosten Arizonas Rinder züchtet. Sein schwarzer Prachtbulle grast ein paar Meter neben Ringos Grab. Manchmal findet Sanders Münzen auf dem Grabstein, hingelegt von Leuten, die die Gesetzlosen verehren. Der Viehzüchter sammelt die Quarters ein: «Geld kann man immer brauchen. Rindfleisch ist ja heute nichts mehr wert.» Bei Sanders’ Nachbarn, auf der Sunglow-Ranch an den Ausläufern der Chiricahua- Mountains, kann man in Casitas im mexikanischen Stil übernachten. Die Häuschen umgeben eine Feuerstelle, bei der man nach Sonnenuntergang in Ruhe sein Bier am Feuer trinken kann. Die Zikaden zirpen, der Sternenhimmel ist zum Greifen nah, die Luft extrem sauber.

Thanks to survive shootout 

As there was more to get nothing, pulled the Pack on. This happened about 50 cities States in Arizona, all incurred in 1880 to and the short time later gottverlas Senen Ghost Towns were. Tombstone was spared this fate - thanks a Gunfight at the OK Corral, a Enclosure. The shooting was in Hol lywood discovered again and again film and the "town too tough to die" Thus even a star. Nowadays, not from Hollywood pimped heroes à la Wyatt Earp, Johnny Ringo and Doc Holiday, the door Big Nose Kate's Saloon on, but Tourists from all over the world. Sits in the shadow of White Oak Sanders pushes Jerry and his Cow boyhut in the neck. "My grandfather Johnny Ringo's body has gefun here the "tells the rancher, who like his Ancestors in southeastern Arizona Cattle breeds. His black bull splendor grazing a few feet next to Ringo's grave. Sometimes, Sanders coins the tombstone, put down by people who he outlaws worship. The cattle Quarters collects a breeder who: "Money you can always use. Beef yes today is not worth anything. " If Sanders' neighbors to the Sung lowRanch in the foothills of Chiri cahuaMountains, one can in Casitas Mexican-style overnight. The Cottage surrounded a fire pit, in which one after sunset in Drink beer by the fire can be calm. The cicadas chirping, the sky is within reach, the air extremely clean.

 Wer zum Teufel ist Winnetou?

In den Chiricahuas waren grosse Häuptlinge wie Cochise oder Bonito daheim. Und Geronimo, der letzte Guerillero der Apachen. Heute sind die Berge mit den senkrecht aufragenden Felsnadeln und bizarr balancierenden Felskolossen ein «National Monument» und eine beliebte Destination für Wanderer. Winnetou sucht man hier selbstverständlich vergebens, Karl Mays Indianer kennt hier sowieso niemand. «Who the hell is Winnetou?», fragt Park-Rangerin Suzanne Moody. Und die echten Apachen leben längst nicht mehr im «Land der wilden Truthähne», was Chiricahua in ihrer Sprache bedeutet, sondern in Reservaten. «Die Pflanzen- und Tierwelt ist ähnlich wie in Mexiko», sagt Suzanne. Die Grenze ist nah, es gibt hier wie dort Wildkatzen, Berglöwen, Kojoten, Klapperschlangen, Bären oder Adler. Eigentlich gefährlich seien die Klapperschlangen nicht. «Meistens beissen sie junge Männer, wenn sie die Schlangen reizen. Mehr Menschen sterben in Arizona aber an Bienenstichen.» Bevor Arizona 1848 an die USA fiel, gehörte es zu Mexiko. Als in Bisbee die Queen-Mine, die damals grösste Kupfermine der Welt, ihren Betrieb aufnahm, war Arizona noch US-Territorium, 1912 wurde es dann zum 48. Bundesstaat. Bisbee machte den jungen «Copperstate » reich. Als der Kupferpreis in den 1970ern in den Keller fiel, schloss die Mine. Seitdem setzt Bisbee auf Galerien mit Hippieflair, Kunsthandwerk, Antiquitäten und auf den Tourismus. Arizona ist heute als der «Grand Canyon State» bekannt. Gegenüber dem Eingang zur Queen- Mine glänzen die silbrigen Wohnwagen des Shady Dell in der Sonne. Die Vintage- Trailer kann man mieten, vom winzigen «Home-made Trailer» bis zum «Royal Mansion», in dem von der Schallplatte bis zur Kaffeekanne alles aus den 50ern stammt. Eine weitere Attraktion in Bisbee ist ein kleiner Hutsalon, wo Hüte wie eh und je von Hand gefertigt werden. Mit einem metallenen Messhut nimmt Grant Sergot Mass, um Panama- oder Cowboyhüte der Kopfform anzupassen. Hier ist ein Künstler am Werk, bei dem der Hutkauf zum Erlebnis wird. Unter der sengenden Sonne Arizonas will das Aufsetzen, Ablegen und Leben mit dem Hut gelernt sein.

Who the hell is Winnetou? 

In the Chiricahua chiefs were great Cochise as refugees or bonito home. And Geronimo, the last guerrilla the Apaches. Today, the mountains the vertical towering pinnacles and bizarre balancing Felskolossen a "National Monument" and be a loved destination for hikers. Winnetou are nowhere to self of course in vain, Karl May's Indians No one here knows anyway. "Who the Winnetou hell is? "asks park ranger Suzanne Moody. And the real Apa life's long way to the more "country of the wild turkeys, "which Chiricahua in their language means, but in Reserves. "The plants and animals is similar in Mexico, "says Su zanne. The border is close, there are as there, wild cats, mountain lions, Kojo States, rattlesnakes, bears or ad LER. Really dangerous are the Klap perschlangen not. "Most of bite them young men, if they snake stimulate gene. More people die in Arizona but to bee stings. " Before Arizona to the U.S. fell in 1848, it belonged to Mexico. As in the Bisbee Queen Mine, the then largest copper mine in the world, took up their operation, Arizona was still USTerritorium, 1912 It was then the 48th Federal state. Bisbee made the young 'Copper state "rich. As the price of copper in the 1970s, fell into the cellar, closed Mine. Since then, Bisbee is set to galleries with hippie flair, art, anti- quitäten and on tourism. Ari zona is today known as the "Grand Canyon State »known. Opposite the entrance to the Queen Mine shining silver caravan the Shady Dell in the sun. The Vin Trailer can be rented daily, from win zigen "Homemade Trailer" by "Royal Mansion," in which from the sound plate to everything from the coffee pot 50s came from. Another attraction is in Bisbee a small Hutsalon where hats as always and are manufactured by hand ever. With a metal Messhut takes Grant Sergot Mass., to Panama or Cowboy beware of the head shape to adapt. Here is an artist at work, in which the hat buying an experience. Under the sen ing the Arizona sun will Aufsetzen, filing, and lives with his hat be learned.

Johnny Depps Schwein

Derart stilvoll behutet, kann man beispielsweise im Gadsden Hotel die marmorne Treppe unter Tiffany-Glasfenstern und vergoldeten Säulen herunterschweben. Das «letzte der Grandhotels des Old West» wurde, wie Besitzerin Robin Brekhus erzählt, «von einer Cattleund Copper-Company mit allem Pomp» errichtet. Einst zog es die Stars an: von Paul Newman und der Monroe über Robert Redford und Harrison Ford bis hin zu Johnny Depp, der 1993 bei den Dreharbeiten von «Arizona Dream» ein Schwein als Haustier mitbrachte, es daliess und später wieder besuchen kam. Der Wilde Westen ist im verstaubten Grandhotel und seinem Ableger samt Saloons, Spielhölle, Bars und Barbershop immer noch sehr präsent. Menschenleere Strassen flirren in der Mittagshitze, Mexiko liegt nur ein paar Blocks  entfernt. «High Noon» lässt grüssen.

Johnny Depp's pig 

Behutet so stylish, you can at example, in the Gadsden Hotel, the mar morne Tiffany Church windows, stairs under- Tern and gilded columns down . Float The "last of the Grand Hotels of the Old West was, "as owner Ro Brekhus am told, "of a Cattle and Copper Company with all the pomp" built. Once it moved to the Stars: from Paul Newman and Monroe on the Robert Redford and Harrison Ford to Johnny Depp, who in 1993 at the rotary work, "Arizona Dream" one of Pig as pet brought it as and let later came to visit again. The Wild West is in the dusty Grand Hotel and its offshoots, including Sat loons, gambling, bars and Barber Shop still very present. People empty streets shimmer in the midday heat, Mexico is just a few blocks corresponding removed. "High Noon" sends his regards.

Trailer Life Directory Online  Feb. 3, 2005

Óptimo Custom Hatworks is located in the heart of the historic mining town of Old Bisbee, in the mountains of South Eastern Arizona.  All the tools and equipment are originals from the 1880's Victorian period.  Óptimo offers original designs in both contemporary and period fashions, all made by hand.  Along with cleaning and re-blocking, S. Grant Sergot and his staff also are conservators in the restoration of important antique hats, including those made of straw and fur-felt.  A specialty of Óptimo Custom Hatworks is the hand-woven straw Panama hat from Ecuador, custom hand-formed and finished in the shop.  These supple and durable hats can be handed down as heirloom sculpture.  They are graded in ascending order of quality and cost.  Only a few weavers still exist who can weave the best quality.  Sergot will help you select a design to match your physique, character and personallity.  Prices start at $125.

Accessibility Note: The shop is an atelier (salon studio), open for educational tours.  It is suggested that you call for a fitting or an appointment to take the tour.

Who We’ve Met: S. Grant Sergot

I like hats. Packed away in a closet back home is a box containing a stack of them — fedoras, porkpies and trilbies, molded of felt and straw and fabric. But nearly none of these hats has graced my head in public. That’s because it takes a certain man — Humphrey Bogart, Frank Sinatra, Johnny Depp — to do justice to classic headwear, and I, tragically, am not that kind of man.

I brought only one hat on this trip: a trucker cap Jill purchased for me at a Luceroconcert when trucker caps were still stylishly ironical. I figure I’m allowed to wear a trucker hat past its ironical prime, because (1) I also wore a trucker hat before its ironical prime and (2) I presently spend a lot of time with the pedal to the metal.

My current cap has a burnt-oil-black crown and a mesh back the color and sheen of runny oatmeal. It’s a good hat for concealing unwashed hair, and it suits me around the campfire or atop a barroom stool. But it felt completely inadequate atop my head when I walked into Óptimo Custom Hatworks in Bisbee, Ariz.

Óptimo Custom Hatworks is the kind of specialty shop that restores character to boom-and-bust mining towns like Bisbee, where precious metal and historian’s ink tend to exhaust themselves at the same pace. When the Phelps Dodge Corporation, after 90 years, finally ceased its copper-mining operation in Bisbee in 1975, the town probably should have faded into obscurity. But it didn’t. Instead, artists filled the void, nesting like opportunistic sparrows in the miners’ empty homes and transforming boarded-up shops into studios and galleries.

Stephen Grant Sergot is one of those artists. But his medium isn’t paint or stone — it’s felt and straw. And Óptimo Custom Hatworks is both his gallery and studio.

If Don Draper or Indiana Jones owned the world and dictated its fashion, Sergot would be a god. The gentleman knows hats. He knows how to shape them, how to clean them, how to restore them. He knows how to fit them to head shapes and facial features and body types. He is a student of hat history and a connoisseur hat couture.

I spent more than an hour in Sergot’s company as Jill photographed him and his shop, and in that time I observed him handle a hat one of only two ways: with care or with purpose. There was something almost sensual about the way he touched the elegantly dented crown of a Tom Mix cowboy hat, tracing its stiff ridges and gentle curves with impeccably manicured fingers. It was impossible not to watch, but it seemed indecent to stare.

Sergot himself has the look of a fine hat — all symmetry and crisp edges. He wears a dove-gray beard trimmed close, like brushed felt, and his Western-style attire is tastefully adorned with smooth leather and pearly buttons.

Sergot dresses with precision, moves with precision, speaks with precision — even smiles with precision — and Óptimo Custom Hatworks is a reflection of his personality and craftsmanship. Much to Jill’s camera-wielding delight, the place is lit like a museum and the hats are displayed like sculptures. Some are perched atop ash pedestals stained to a mahogany patina (Sergot made them himself, out of piano legs), while others rest inside cases of smudgeless glass. Hats within reach of browsers bear sticky notes that read “Please Do Not Handle.”

Contrary to the shop’s Bisbee location and Sergot’s adopted Southwestern style (he’s a native Michigander), delicately woven Panama hats account for most of the headwear on display. These are Sergot’s specialty and passion. I asked him why, and he recounted a story about discovering his first Panama hat at an estate sale in Cave Creek, Ariz., in 1972.

“It was sitting in a milk crate, shimmering in the sun,” he said. “I picked it up, worked my hands around it, felt the back weave of the brim edge. There was no wire on the brim edge. It was a wonderful, wonderful texture — malleable yet durable.”

He bought the Panama at auction for $15, and thus began a love affair between man and hat.

From listening to Sergot chat with customers who wandered into his shop, I learned that Panama hats are not actually made in Panama. They come from Ecuador. They acquired the moniker “Panama” because laborers constructing the Panama Canal wore them to shield their faces from the sun. The name stuck after Teddy Roosevelt was photographed in one of the hats during a 1906 visit to the canal and the New York Times described it as a “Panama hat.”

Most people who enter Óptimo Custom Hatworks are gawkers and loiterers and tourists. Sergot has observed their behavior for 30 years, and that has no doubt influenced his interactions with would-be customers. Sometimes, when the tiny bell rings above the shop door, he barely looks up from his work; other times, he slides easily into salesman mode.

A favorite routine is explaining to a shopper that hat fitting is all about proportion — that a wide-brimmed hat balances, and even slims, the profile of man with a large belly. If a customer seems serious about a hat purchase, Sergot might come around the counter and measure the man’s (or woman’s) head with a “conformer,” a Victorian-era device that resembles a top hat built from ancient typewriter innards.

As earnest as Sergot is about his craft, I can’t help thinking he would have been a suave snake-oil salesmen back in days when copper was first discovered in Bisbee’s hills. His manner is confident and practiced; his eyes are easily set atwinkle. Donald Sutherland would play him in the film. Or maybe Richard Dreyfuss.

Sergot’s beguiling comportment also extends to journalists. When I asked him how he got his start as a hatter, he unspooled a fascinating story about migrating from Michigan in a truck with two dogs, stopping to pick up a hitchhiker near the rim of the Grand Canyon, getting bogged down in the mud and finding an old felt hat in a ditch. The hat had bite marks on it — “could have been pack rats,” Sergot theorized — but he threw it in the truck anyway, and later put it on while waiting out a storm in Supai, Ariz.

“I’m sitting around a juniper fire, and I’m wearing a poncho and this old felt hat, and these big, wet snowflakes started making the hat wet,” he said. “The brim started changing shape. So I started doing things to it, to try to gutter the water out the front and back. … I laid it on the dashboard overnight, and the next day the sun started to dry it. Once it got very dry, I couldn’t do anything more to it. So that night I put the tea kettle on the fire, and got some steam rolling out, and started steaming the hat and realized, ‘Hey, this is how you do it.’”

It’s a creation story of almost biblical perfection, and you can read strikingly similar versions of it in the “History and Media Kit” section of Óptimo’s website, or in any one of the framed magazine articles that hang on the wall of Sergot’s shop. The guy is nothing if not media savvy. He even showed me a piece of notebook paper on which he has written his responses — augmented with wisecracks — to the most common questions he gets from reporters.

But savvy works for Sergot, and his beautiful hattery works for Bisbee. Case in point: While he was graciously tolerating Jill’s clacking shutter and my drawling questions, a middle-aged couple from British Columbia entered the shop. They said they had been to Óptimo seven years ago, but Sergot was on vacation and an assistant was manning the store.

“We’ve been waiting seven years to come back,” said the male half of the couple. “We rolled into town 20 minutes ago, and this is our first stop.” Sergot smiled and reached for his Victorian conformer. It was showtime at Óptimo — and it was a cue for Jill and I to move on.

Before I pushed open the door, I took one last, longing gaze at the rows of hats hanging on the wall. A gray cowboy hat with a flat brim and open crown called to me. It had called to me since I first set foot in the shop, tempting me to make an impulse purchase, to have Sergot expertly shape it to my noggin for the road ahead, which, after all, led through New Mexico, Texas and Louisiana — cowboy-hat places if there ever were any.

But I hadn’t even tried the hat on. I was too shy to ask, and now it was too late. So I pulled my trucker cap low over my eyes and re-entered Bisbee’s sun-glinted world of art galleries, antique stores and curio shops.

Those other joints might keep Bisbee’s sidewalks bustling with tourists and window shoppers, but it is people like Grant Sergot and places like Óptimo that prevent the town from descending, like a rickety mine car, into a black maw of homogeneous quaintness.

Somebody in Bisbee should tip a hat to that.

—Scott

Thursday, Nov 18th, Bisbee, Arizona

Greetings!

We drove from Tucson to Bisbee today,  a town Pat mistook for another place we’ve once visited.  We’re glad we went, however, as I got a new hat that Pat bought for me.   But more on that later.

The drive there took us past Tombstone, and I was looking forward to stopping.  As we approached the town, I imagined I was riding a horse, and perhaps had just come offa cattle drive.  I could see the town from a few miles away, as it sits on the side of a hill, in front of some very large mountains.  On entering the town, the first sign we saw let us know we’d just passed the Cemetery.  Then, a large sign advertized daily reenactments of the shootout at the OK Corral.  Since it was past noon, I wondered if we’d missed the show.  Soon, every highway restaurant and hotel we saw bore the name of one or more of the characters in every western I’ve ever seen.   Just after a curve in the road, and an abandoned motel,  I saw to my right a street with wooden buildings extending over a small hill.   In a split second, I decided to stay with my imagined Tombstone town, and pass on the possibility that reality would spoil what childhood memories I still have.

We reached Bisbee, now properly named Old Bisbee, and founded a couple of years after Tombstone (1880).  Some army scouts had been chasing a Native American up a canyon, and decided to make camp at a stream.  The sides of the canyon sparkled too much to ignore, and soon mining claims were being filed.  For the next hundred years, technology and American consumerism drove entrepreneurs to pursue copper via underground shafts and drilling, and lately from open pit mining.  This area of Arizona has provided the largest single concentration of copper in the U.S. ($5 bilion worth in 2007), and positions the U.S. as the third largest producer in the world (after Chile and Peru). 

The Museum in Old Bisbee is located appropriately at the home office of the Phelps Dodge Corporation, owners of the largest copper mine in the area, and I was happy to see that a corner of it is dedicated to storing and cataloging all of the records anyone can find from the town and its surrounding territory.  Dr. Harvey Lovett, 90, sat in a corner chair , and told me of the work he and his volunteers have been doing for decades.  I asked him about his current project, digitizing a wall of three-ring binders of photographs of the town.  “The hard part is trying to write what to call the photographs.  Anyone can probably tell it’s a photo of the main street.  The trick is to know it’s a picture of the Oriental Saloon, and what year it was taken by the condition of the building.  It takes someone old to do that, and I guess I’m qualified.”  I asked him how long before he had the photo collection finished.  He said about a year, a lot quicker than it took him to digitize the 20,000 headstones in the local cemetery.
By the way, Old Bisbee's Gay Pride Days is considered one of the top five rural gay pride days by gay.com, and has its own website (http://www.bisbeepride.com). The 2008 Bisbee Gay Pride celebrations included a Leather and Lace Street Party, poolside BBQ, a lingerie pub crawl, the Bert Lundy Dance Party, and a turn-of-the-century ball.[8] Ten U.S. AIDS Memorial Quilt panels were on display at Bisbee's famed Copper Queen Hotel.[9]The Bisbee 1000 Stair Climb is a five kilometer run through Bisbee that goes up and down 1,034 stairs. Because much of Old Bisbee is built in the hills of the Mule Mountains, many of the houses can’t be reached by car. Billed as "The most unique physical fitness challenge in the USA!" by the organizers,[11] it includes being serenaded by musicians at various locations among the stairs. The event has grown to include the Ice Man Competition, designed to honor the history of men delivering blocks of ice by hand before the advent of refrigeration. In the Ice Man Competition, entrants race up 155 steps carrying a ten-pound block of ice with antique ice tongs.

But the most fun we had was spending time with S. Grant Sergot, whose been called the best hatmaker alive.  In a Victorian style storefront at 47 Main Street, his salon (Óptimo Hatworks) is a showcase of original panama, and hand-formed and finished fur-felt hats.  One of the true artists in hat-making, Sergot works in both contemporary and period fashions, and cleans, re-blocks, and restores important antique hats. When we arrived, he was interviewing Karl, a young man from Los Angeles.  Karl had inherited his grandfather’s collection of hats, and had brought over a couple to see what could be done to restore them.  We listened attentively as Grant examined each, and instructed Karl in their proper cleaning, storage, and use.  He measured Karl’s head with an ancient metal hat-like tool which seemed more designed for a phrenology examination.   While I took some photos, Pat spotted a felt hat at the top of several rows of hats on display.  When Karl’s lessons and fitting had reached a pause, she indicated we were interested in it.  Grant and I talked about hat styles, top and brim sizes, and about fur and the variety of animal hairs which could be used.  We measured and tried on several, and concluded that I was a 7 ¼+ hat size, and that rabbit with a standard band would suit Pat’s checkbook.  At that, we’ve bought suits for less.  But it’s worth every penny.  As an heirloom sculpture, if cared for well (included were at least 30 minutes of grooming, handling, and storage instruction), it will become an important addition to our collection of art.  And the name of S. Grant Sergot, and Óptimo Hatworks, will be on our lips as the source for the highest quality hatwear.
Here's a link to the photo I took today:  Bisbee, Arizona

Gregory

One perfect day in Bisbee, AZ

In the heart of Arizona copper country, the town of Bisbee proves that the Old West doesn't fade away—it just gets better

Craig Outhier
 

Start with killer chilaquiles. Before touring the nearby Queen Mine, pick up a spot of grub and a shaft of sunlight. Both can be found at Poco, a Mexican no-animal-protein zone set in a charming alleylike patio just off Main Street. The avocado tacos are no joke, but if you're craving something in the "I can't believe this is vegan" category, look no further than the hearty chilaquiles: homemade tortilla strips piled with housemade salsa, black beans, guacamole, and convincing mock chorizo.

Get yourself a proper hat. At Óptimo Hatworks, self-taught milliner Grant Sergot handcrafts more than 100 high-quality hats a year. That might not sound like a lot until you consider that he customizes each one to fit skin tone, jawline, even the shape of a person's eyes. "I could never sell cars," Sergot says, surveying the 300 or so hats that cram the small space—mostly classic styles, ranging from sharp fedoras to wide-brimmed Derbys. "Once I've got a customer, I've got 'em for life."

Check out the art scene. When the famously fertile copper mines of Bisbee went dry in the mid-1970s, a wave of eclectic artists splashed into town to replace the pickax crowd. Today, the two-block crescent of Main Street just west of the Copper Queen Hotel is home to roughly a dozen art galleries, none more exciting than Belleza Fine Art Gallery. The sweeping brick walls are covered with work by local artists, and include everything from landscapes in acrylics to abstract wall art forged from copper. Proceeds benefit the Renaissance House, a nearby transition project for homeless women, who fashion the gallery's inventory of colorful Adirondack chairs.

Throw back a throwback beer. During its precious-metal heyday, Bisbee was known as "the liveliest spot between El Paso and San Francisco." Cheap beer from the Midwest eventually put local suds-smiths out of business. But Old Bisbee Brewing Company, launched in 2010, aims to resurrect the days when brewers made their own liquid gold. The brewery shows a half dozen styles, which you can sample via a tasting flight; we're partial to the smooth Copper City Ale, a recipe that's been around these parts since 1881.

Pig out on the perfect pizza. Bisbeeites have found ingenious uses for the town's early- and midcentury buildings. At Screaming Banshee Pizza, owners turned a grubby 1950s service station into a place for the best wood-fired pies in the area code. Standouts include the beautifully charred Margherita Bliss and the fennel sausage-filled Screaming Banshee. Don't miss the cozy bar programmed with haute cocktails like the Lipstick on My Lover, made with Champagne and elderflower liqueur.

Stay for a show. Down the street from Screaming Banshee Pizza, Bisbee's best music venue, The Bisbee Royale, took over a 1918 Baptist church. The pews were torn out and converted into the bar top, where the "choir" dispenses pilsner and Pinot instead of church hymns. But the crowd remains devout, moved by a canny mix of old movies, alt-rock and folk from Bisbee and beyond.

Craig Outhier 

Start with killer chilaquiles. Before touring the nearby Queen Mine, pick up a spot of grub and a shaft of sunlight. Both can be found at Poco, a Mexican no-animal-protein zone set in a charming alleylike patio just off Main Street. The avocado tacos are no joke, but if you're craving something in the "I can't believe this is vegan" category, look no further than the hearty chilaquiles: homemade tortilla strips piled with housemade salsa, black beans, guacamole, and convincing mock chorizo.

Get yourself a proper hat. At Óptimo Hatworks, self-taught milliner Grant Sergot handcrafts more than 100 high-quality hats a year. That might not sound like a lot until you consider that he customizes each one to fit skin tone, jawline, even the shape of a person's eyes. "I could never sell cars," Sergot says, surveying the 300 or so hats that cram the small space—mostly classic styles, ranging from sharp fedoras to wide-brimmed Derbys. "Once I've got a customer, I've got 'em for life."

Check out the art scene. When the famously fertile copper mines of Bisbee went dry in the mid-1970s, a wave of eclectic artists splashed into town to replace the pickax crowd. Today, the two-block crescent of Main Street just west of the Copper Queen Hotel is home to roughly a dozen art galleries, none more exciting than Belleza Fine Art Gallery. The sweeping brick walls are covered with work by local artists, and include everything from landscapes in acrylics to abstract wall art forged from copper. Proceeds benefit the Renaissance House, a nearby transition project for homeless women, who fashion the gallery's inventory of colorful Adirondack chairs.

Throw back a throwback beer. During its precious-metal heyday, Bisbee was known as "the liveliest spot between El Paso and San Francisco." Cheap beer from the Midwest eventually put local suds-smiths out of business. But Old Bisbee Brewing Company, launched in 2010, aims to resurrect the days when brewers made their own liquid gold. The brewery shows a half dozen styles, which you can sample via a tasting flight; we're partial to the smooth Copper City Ale, a recipe that's been around these parts since 1881.

Pig out on the perfect pizza. Bisbeeites have found ingenious uses for the town's early- and midcentury buildings. At Screaming Banshee Pizza, owners turned a grubby 1950s service station into a place for the best wood-fired pies in the area code. Standouts include the beautifully charred Margherita Bliss and the fennel sausage-filled Screaming Banshee. Don't miss the cozy bar programmed with haute cocktails like the Lipstick on My Lover, made with Champagne and elderflower liqueur.

Stay for a show. Down the street from Screaming Banshee Pizza, Bisbee's best music venue, The Bisbee Royale, took over a 1918 Baptist church. The pews were torn out and converted into the bar top, where the "choir" dispenses pilsner and Pinot instead of church hymns. But the crowd remains devout, moved by a canny mix of old movies, alt-rock and folk from Bisbee and beyond.