HIGH POINT — Know this up front: Don Wright will make you laugh. He’ll harp about the fine art of furniture


making, and when he’s reminded of his attention deficit disorder, he’ll stop midsentence and say about his lack of focus, “I’m like a mosquito in a nudist camp.”
But really, it’s his twice-a-year furniture market letters that’ll get you. Read a few and you’ll see for yourself why so many furniture buyers, interior designers and old friends slip into his showroom.
The man from Morganton can turn a phrase. Like this one from October 1995: “I have good news and wonderful news. The good news: One of my three daughters is about to have a baby. The wonderful news: The married one is having the baby. No amount of planning or foresight can replace dumb luck.”
Wright is the funny man of furniture. He’s a hunter, a teacher, a storyteller and a lover of good books and good bourbon. But mostly, he’s a savvy businessman with the heart of an artist.
He’s learned the fine art of surviving the rough-and-tumble business of furniture.
“I’m happy at 8:30 in the morning, and I want to stay that way,” said Wright from his High Point showroom this week. “I can take a blank piece of paper and draw a picture on it that’ll employ people and please customers.
“That’s a great opportunity. I couldn’t ask for more than that.” Wright knows everybody at the High Point Market. With his own company, he’s attended 71. Take one afternoon this week.
He stood in his North Hamilton Street showroom, quoting something from the Oxford English Dictionary — the “OED” he calls it — when in walked someone and Wright said, “As I live and breathe.” Right away, the buyer mentioned Wright’s letter. And Wright responded like a comedian on stage. “Let me tell you the difference between rich and famous. Famous is the easy part,” Wright told him. “I just want the money.”
Wright first thought he’d be a doctor or a mathematician. But he didn’t dig medicine — that was his grandfather’s career. As for math, he thought to himself: “Why in the hell do I want to do that? You can use a calculator.”
So, he went into drawing and design. His mother was a skilled artist, and he was darn decent, too. Plus, he loved handcrafted furniture. He went to design school and became a staff designer for Drexel Furniture in Morganton.
Then, in 1971, he started his own company. Just him and two other employees. That became Wright Table Co. He once had 43 employees. He now has 23. His business has dropped in half because of the departure of upper-end retailers and the arrival of low-cost furniture, particularly coming from China, which he calls a “triumph of appearance over substance.”
Wright has begun to diversify. He markets to interior designers and makes architectural elements such as doors. He’s also looking to create handcrafted signs that will appeal to the retirees flocking to western North Carolina.
His company even makes caskets on demand. As he wrote in his most recent market letter, “To paraphrase Yogi Berra, we have come to a fork in the road, and we’re going to take it.” Yet, he’s still an old-school artisan, an example of North Carolina’s rich furniture tradition. He writes in a beautiful calligraphy script, totes a wood carving pen knife in his pocket and props open his showroom door with a century-old antique wood clamp. He’s a devoted father and employer. Ever since his daughter, Amy, was first stricken by cancer in 1983, he’s worked hard raising money for American Cancer Society. He’s also worked hard for his employees, the people who can turn unfinished cherry from New York into a $20,000 conference table. He sees them as true craftsmen.
He holds company get-togethers, matches contributions to their 401(k) retirement plans, helps cover their medical insurance and gives every retiring employee a knife, a bottle of whisky and an 18-karat gold watch. But Wright doesn’t think about retiring. At least not yet. He admits the idea of succession scares him.
At 64, he still likes seeing something and thinking to himself, “Gee, I think I can sell that.” That makes him happy. Even at 8:30 in the morning.
Contact Jeri Rowe at 373-7374 or jrowe@news-record.com