The stock market is down and unemployment is up, which translates into one thing at the Village Cobbler: good news.

Instead of tossing old Oxfords and tired wingtips into the trash, people are bringing their shoes in for new soles and a polish, hoping to get another year's wear during uncertain times.

Rob Morgan, his son, Troy, and his daughter, Stacey, have plenty of work at their repair shop near Foothill Boulevard, especially now that a good cobbler is hard to find.

"No doubt, it's a disappearing occupation," says Rob, 56, among a handful of shoe repairmen left in the Salt Lake Valley. "But people are waking up. It's a lot cheaper to fix up your shoes than buy a brand-new pair."

One of the Morgan family's loyal customers — a woman who displays her shoes in a walk-in closet like Romanov treasures — recently suggested that I drop by the shop to share a Free Lunch with the crew.

There wasn't much time for chips and sandwiches, not with dozens of old shoes lined up for new stitching and a run through the Auto-Soler — a dinosaur-sized machine with the rumble of a B-52 bomber.

"I grew up in this shop," says Troy, 34, who recalls shining shoes after school once his homework was done. Working in a family business can be tricky, he says, "because we know each other so well. But it somehow works out."

Stacey, 29, is the latest family member to learn the trade, after giving up her tanning salon job three years ago.

"I can see that it's a good, steady job, especially now," she says, stuffing hardwood stretchers into a pair of narrow cowboy boots. "People want to get a little more wear out of their shoes.

They're pulling their boots out of winter storage and thinking, 'How can I make these look like new?"'

In 37 years behind the counter, her father has repaired just about everything: broken heels on pricey Manolo Blahniks, weather-beaten penny loafers and platforms covered in sticky gum.

The biggest challenge, though, is restoring leather shoes chomped on by dogs in need of chew toys, Rob says. "It's amazing the damage a puppy's teeth can do," he says. "Remaking a pair of dog-eaten shoes requires a little imagination."

He was 15 when he first strolled into the Village Cobbler one day after high school, hoping to buy a pair of custom-made sandals. Instead, the owner put him to work.

"I ended up making my own sandals," says Rob, "but I found a fun trade. I really enjoy working my hands, thinking on my feet. And it's helped a lot of people in my family. Brothers, cousins, nephews — they've all worked for me."

With the popularity of molded athletic shoes and Crocs, repair shops like the Village Cobbler have folded by the dozens in recent years. But the Morgans are determined to make it in a throwaway world.

The warm aroma of shoe wax and the steady hum of the automatic polisher are a reminder that not everyone appreciates rubber footwear, even in a sliding economy.

"We have one woman who comes in every week with a dozen new pairs of designer shoes," says Troy. "She wants protective soles put on every pair." He looks at the high-priced heels stacked behind the counter and grins. "So no matter what happens, she'll keep us in business."

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