click to enlarge Molly Walsh

Ethan Bechtel

Ethan Bechtel sank into a caramel-colored leather chair in his Burlington office. He wore a flannel shirt, jeans and fashionable stubble as he explained why he chose Vermont as the home base for his mobile app startup, OhMD.

Bechtel, 34, is the sort of entrepreneur economists and politicians want to attract to Vermont. Many of them, including Gov. Phil Scott, bemoan the state's stagnant population and wring their hands about the need for more young workers.

Bechtel, who grew up in Shelburne and graduated from the University of Vermont, launched his company in New York City. He moved back with the business in 2015 to satisfy his craving for the outdoors and to escape Manhattan, which was wearing thin. "It's nothing like Vermont — no skiing, no lake," he said.

Bechtel wants to stay. "I think if you understand what Vermont is, and you're that type of person, then it's an amazing place to land."

Convincing people who leave to come back — and to bring their friends — must be a priority, Scott suggested to lawmakers during his January 23 budget address.

"A shrinking workforce creates a downward spiral. With fewer workers we have less revenue, and the state becomes less and less affordable ... We must act now," the newly-installed Republican governor proclaimed.

He echoed a January Vermont Chamber of Commerce report that said the state should add 10,000 people to the workforce annually for the next two decades.

Vermont's population dirge is an old and familiar tune. Wyoming is the only state with fewer people than Vermont. At various times in the state's history, political leaders have pushed for population growth. In the 1890s, after a steady influx of Catholic immigrants from Ireland and Québec, the state agriculture commissioner recruited Protestants — primarily Swedes — to revive abandoned Vermont farms.

A few came, but not hordes. Population growth was modest continuing well into the 1900s. A back-to-the-landers surge in the 1960s and 1970s brought many flatlanders from more crowded states.

And now? Vermont's population dropped two-tenths of a percent between 2010 and 2016, from 625,745 to 624,594, according to the U.S. Census Bureau's latest estimates.

That's a dip, not a plunge. But it's compounded by uneven shifts: The population is growing in Chittenden County, Vermont's economic engine. Yet it's shrinking in many more rural reaches of the state, from Rutland County in the south to Essex County in the north.

There are consequences. Home values are appreciating in Chittenden County, where the average home sale price rose from $247,000 in 2010 to $270,000 in 2015. During the same period, values in Rutland County dropped from $148,000 to $140,000, according to the Vermont Housing Finance Agency.

And while school enrollment has been declining statewide for 20 years, the trend is often felt most acutely in small towns such as Proctor, near Rutland. The town's marble curbs and sidewalks speak of its history as a quarrying center that once attracted many immigrants. These days, new arrivals are few and so are children. Last year, the senior class at Proctor Junior/Senior School had just 18 students, down from 42 in 2003.

Vermont has one of the lowest birth rates in the nation and plenty of baby boomers heading into retirement. These trends have some businesspeople and economists worrying that the state's workforce could shrink.

There's disagreement on the gravity of the problem.

"The demographics right now are operating in a direction that isn't helpful," said Jeff Carr, who has long forecasted revenues for the state as president of Economic & Policy Resources, a private consulting firm in Williston. "It's a big lift to reverse these trends," he said.

David Bradbury, president of the Vermont Center for Emerging Technologies, which funds startups and oversees coworking spaces, is also worried.

"I do think population decrease is a problem, and what causes that is really the issue. I think it is an issue of affordability," Bradbury said, pointing to the cost of housing in particular.

Generally accepted economic theory views population decline as a brake on the economy, explained Matthew Barewicz, an economist with the Vermont Department of Labor.

"The fewer people you have promoting and encouraging economic activity, the less of it there's going to be," he said.

But traditional models often don't take into account indicators such as happiness, Barewicz noted. And more than a few Vermonters might view population decline with a smile if it means fewer traffic jams and shorter lines at the grocery store.

Population Change by County, 2010 to 2015 Source: U.S. Census Bureau

Paul Cillo, president and executive director of the nonprofit Public Assets Institute, a think tank based in Montpelier, is concerned, but not alarmed, about the population trends.

"I don't think population decline is a good thing in general," Cillo said. But the bigger conversation is about the nuances within the trend, he added.

Almost everyone who talks about the issue produces data — some solid, some not. For example, there's the not-so-scientific study by United Van Lines, a moving company that reported that in 2016, Vermont was second in the nation for most move ins (67 percent) compared to move outs (33 percent).

The problem: It's a survey of United Van Lines customers only, not a representative sample of the Vermont population. The survey was based on just 277 moves for Vermont, when thousands of people came and went.

In-depth studies paint a different picture. Carr, who presented the state revenue forecast for 2017 to 2019 to legislators last month, noted in the report the "obvious concern" associated with the possibility that recent declines in Vermont's population might continue. That "could limit the ability of the state's labor force to grow — to the long-term detriment" of Vermont's future economic growth, Carr's report states.

Vermont's low unemployment rate — 3.1 percent in December — means some companies already can't find workers, and that's bad news, Carr said.

"If you don't have people that are available to take the jobs that are needed by the economy ... the potential performance of the economy goes down," he said.

Public Asset's studies, using Internal Revenue Service data, show that during the last two decades, about 15,000 to 16,000 people have come and gone from Vermont every year — with a few more going than coming in recent years. People who move in tend to earn more than people who move out, the data show.

Some of the movement, or "churn," could be related to economic factors, including the cost of housing, childcare and availability of high-paying jobs, Cillo speculated. But some of it is also people being young and restless.

Still, thousands of people move to Vermont. State leaders should pay attention to the reasons why, with the hope of expanding that pool, said Cillo.

"It's still a significant number of people that are choosing Vermont. I think that's important because they could supposedly choose any place, and they choose to be here," he said.

Take Matthew Gardner. The 23-year-old left New Jersey to attend the University of Vermont and stayed. He graduated with an engineering degree in 2015 and said he is already earning $50,000 a year at an engineering firm in Williston.

The outdoors is a big draw, and winter weekends often find him riding a chairlift. He's already notched 20 days on his season pass to Stowe Mountain Resort. His girlfriend, a UVM grad from Baltimore, lives in Burlington, and they join a pack of friends on weekend adventures. "Skiing and snowboarding and mountain biking, rock climbing, ice climbing," Gardner said. "We kind of all do those things together."

His shared Burlington apartment costs him $650 a month — less than it would be in many big cities, Gardner said — and it's close to the Winooski line, so he can walk to that city's bars and restaurants.

Bechtel found a similar bargain when seeking space for his small company. It's a VCET coworking office space on Burlington's Main Street in the FairPoint Communications building. Despite a drab exterior, the building's third floor is a hip space with a Silicon Valley vibe: cowhide rugs, shag-carpet pillow covers, funky glass light fixtures, cartoon wallpaper and a green ping-pong surface that doubles as a conference room table.

The rent is $100 a month per person. "This place is amazing; it's a steal," said Bechtel.

His company is small, with 4.5 full-time positions including his. Two employees work remotely — one in Dallas and one in Brooklyn.

Bechtel's goal is to gradually expand the business, which sells secure mobile texting services to doctors and health care professionals who must comply with privacy laws governing patient information.

Bechtel wishes it were easier to find programmers, he said. He suggested Vermont leaders should do more to get college students into internships or "co-op" work before they graduate. "There's plenty of students around," Bechtel said. "The thing is, are they equipped with the skillset they need to help a growing tech company?"

VCET launched the coworking space with help from UVM and other organizations. Dozens of people work there, including remote employees for Twitter and Google and online gaming entrepreneurs such as Marguerite Dibble.

Dibble, 26, grew up in southern Vermont's tiny Landgrove, graduated from Champlain College and launched her company, GameTheory, shortly afterward. Today she has seven employees.

She hired three people from the same Champlain College computer gaming program she completed. Many other local tech CEOs struggle to find the right talent, Dibble said, but so far she's managed.

Sometimes, she loses a worker — often because his or her partner gets a better job elsewhere, be it Boulder or Austin.

"There's just more [population] density. You can get higher salaries, faster growth, horizontally and vertically," Dibble said. "There's just more opportunities where there's more people."

For her, Vermont has its own appeal. After work, Dibble often goes home to Starksboro and unwinds with a walk in the woods. She said the scale and beauty of Vermont should be front and center in any campaign to recruit more people to the state.

She said, "I think Vermont really needs to own its own identity."

Why They Left

Swipe or use the bottom arrow buttons to read more stories I'm a seamstress, and my husband is a video game programmer. We both were able to make significantly more by moving out of state. We miss Vermont a lot and would love to move back, but it's just hard to justify taking a pay cut while also increasing our cost of living. — Claire Devoid

seamstress

twentysomething

Las Vegas, Nev.

I moved away from Vermont about a year ago to live abroad in Prague. I left Vermont for personal reasons, as well as the fact that there aren't many opportunities for young people there. And honestly, I was bored. I had lived in Vermont my entire life, and I needed to experience something new and different. Vermont will always be "home," but sometimes home is not enough. — Sally Fyfe

event manager

twentysomething

Prague, Czech Republic

I absolutely love Vermont and lived there for over a decade, but unfortunately I wasn't able to find a position after graduating school due to prerequisites in acquiring my pharmacist license. Another major factor: I was just tired of long winters. There was also a lack of a bigger Asian grocery resource. Sometimes larger musical acts would be difficult to see unless you headed to Boston or Montréal.



I would probably move back in a heartbeat if there was a job opening in the greater Burlington area, but with the influx of grads from Colchester's Albany College of Pharmacy and Health Services — my school — there may be some competition. Along with friends and family, the sense of community is what I miss. — Julie Vo

pharmacist

twentysomething

Austin, Texas

After graduating from law school, my husband and I moved to Nashville because of the cost of living and better job opportunities. We love Vermont and miss the quality of life but wouldn't be able to move back unless we found comparable jobs. My husband is a chef, and the culinary market in Vermont is oversaturated. I found the same to be true after law school with attorney opportunities. — Stephanie Bowman

editor

thirtysomething

East Nashville, Tenn.

I moved away to find a new job. There weren't very many opportunities in Vermont for advancement. I would not move back at this point. — Nicole Bride

IT systems engineer

thirtysomething

Houston, Texas

My family moved to Vermont from Chicago in 1990, after spending several idyllic Christmases in the state. The chief reason for moving: "It's a great place to raise a family." The same saying that suggests Vermont fosters strong values and a sense of community also implies that it lacks the crime associated with more diverse cities. There is an underlying racist tone to the phrase, and I quickly came to realize it as a young child witnessing the striking lack of diversity between Vermont and Chicago.



The benefits of being raised in Vermont were not lost on me, though. I attended a public high school that incorporated students from both affluent and non-affluent communities. Benefiting from small class sizes and support for the arts, I was able to receive special attention for my budding musical talents. I moved away from Vermont for the first time, to New York, to receive a formal music education.



Over the years, I used Vermont as an anchor between life events. My longest stay since first leaving was a three-and-a-half year period where I opened up my own teaching studio out of my parents' home and became an adjunct lecturer and artist-teacher at four local institutions for higher education. I was able to accomplish this in my twenties because I was one of the only people in Vermont with this particular, and needed, knowledge set.



The down side: four precarious semester-to-semester contracts, no health insurance, a full schedule even on weekends, and no possibility of permanent full-time employment. If Vermont was a bird's nest, I was about to be pushed out.



In 2012, I sold most of my belongings, packed up my Prius and drove to San Francisco. I had no plan, no job prospects. After feverishly networking for one year, I started a new business. Four years later, I manage and perform with one of the most hired bands in the Bay Area, have health insurance, free time to spend with a diverse set of friends and acquaintances, and a Bernie 2016 sticker in my window.



To achieve all this, I both needed Vermont and needed to leave. — Emily Day

singer

thirtysomething

San Francisco, Calif.

We left Vermont after 30 years because of the rising cost of living. That coupled with low wages. We wanted to buy a home and couldn't get out of the renter vicious circle. We moved to Kansas in August and haven't looked back. We still have tons of family there and now can afford vacations to visit! That, and the weather is better for my personal health. — Florinda Rocha

retired

fortysomething

Potwin, Kan.

I moved to Florida to be closer to my daughters and grandchildren. I want to come back! I hate Florida and am sick of living in a Trump enclave. I miss mountains and snow. I miss my family. — R. Winona Johnson

teacher

fiftysomething

East Palatka, Fla.

I grew up in Vermont and left in my mid-twenties for the south. I returned in my mid-forties hoping for a midlife reboot. After trying to get into graduate schools in Vermont, I finally applied to Duke University in North Carolina and was accepted. It's ironic that I got into a better university than any in Vermont after being denied in Vermont.



I believe that in Vermont, ageism is a problem in regard to education and employment opportunities for middle-aged people. Also, the taxes are steep, the cost of living is high and it's wrapped up in a lengthy winter. After graduating from Duke, I moved out west to New Mexico and, though I miss my kids and grandkids in Vermont, I have no desire to reside there again. — Meg A. Wallace

doctoral student in clinical psychology

fiftysomething

Corrales, N.M.

Taxes, both income and eventually estate tax ... And weather! — Chuck Clark

grocer

sixtysomething

Inverness, Fla.

Why They Came