Noah Kahans Family Is Helping Lead an Effort to Save a Store in His Vermont Hometown

The residents of Strafford, Vt., cannot imagine their town without Coburns’ General Store, a hub so quirky and cozy, so steeped in New England authenticity, it could be the setting for a novel — or the inspiration for a song.

In fact, the store and the community it serves loom large in the songs of Noah Kahan, the 27-year-old folk-pop sensation who recently became Strafford’s most famous son. Now, Mr. Kahan’s fans around the country and the world cannot imagine his hometown without Coburns’, either: They drop in often to soak up the rural vibes that shape his music, snapping selfies with the store’s owner, Melvin Coburn, 80.

But the fate of the general store, run by Mr. Coburn and his wife, Sue, for the past 47 years, is uncertain. The couple is past ready to retire, but since listing the property for sale two years ago, they have found no buyer. A small group of Strafford residents is trying to find a way to keep the business going; they recently established a nonprofit community trust and are well on their way to raising the $1.8 million needed to buy Coburns’ and set aside funds for its repair and upkeep.

Their next task is to recruit a new proprietor to lease and run the store, which has been in Strafford, in east central Vermont, since the 1880s. Coburns’ sells groceries, saving residents the 25-mile trip to the nearest large supermarket, and it also serves as an essential gathering spot for the town — a place to see neighbors, catch up on local news and strengthen the connections that are critical to rural life.

Roughly a dozen towns in the state have used the same nonprofit ownership model to save their general stores from shutting down in recent years, said Ben Doyle, president of the Preservation Trust of Vermont, as pressure from online retailers and multiplying big-chain dollar stores have made the businesses even harder to sustain.

“Like dairy farms, general stores are something everyone loves, but with small profit margins and lots of deferred maintenance,” Mr. Doyle said. “If you can lower the cost for someone who has a vision, but might not have the capital, then they can have a fighting chance.”

Among those leading the effort in Strafford is Mr. Kahan’s mother, Lauri Berkenkamp, whose appreciation for the Coburns has only deepened since her son became famous. The couple had always treated a young Noah with exceptional kindness, she said, as they do all the local children who crowd the store’s candy aisle every afternoon when school gets out. Since Mr. Kahan’s third album, “Stick Season,” reached No. 1 on the Billboard rock and alternative charts last year, the Coburns have become an unofficial welcome committee for his fans — and gatekeepers of sorts, gently protecting his family’s privacy.

“They come in, we talk to them, and they always say they can’t believe how friendly we are,” said Mr. Coburn, a Strafford native whose voice can briefly be heard on the extended version of Mr. Kahan’s song “The View Between Villages,” describing how people in the town look out for one another. “We get such a kick out of it.”

But when it comes to Mr. Kahan’s family, Mr. Coburn added, “we don’t tell anyone where they live.”

Redirecting overeager fans of a music star may be new to the Coburns, but the task fits comfortably into what they see as their larger mission.

“The job of the store is to take care of the town,” said Chrissy Jamieson, 56, the Coburns’ daughter, who has worked 12-hour days beside her parents for 27 of their 47 years as owners. “We know who’s sick, who had a baby, who just got divorced, and we know how to care for them.”

The unassuming white clapboard store sits in the middle of South Strafford, one of two villages within the town of 1,000 people. Its inventory is dizzying: glass bottles of eggnog from a local dairy farm; pigskin gloves; doorknobs; boxed wine; cans of Budweiser; Noah Kahan T-shirts; neon duct tape; six kinds of sprinkles; and six kinds of birthday candles. It houses a post office and a bank; there’s even a tiny laundromat. Outside, it has a gas pump and a deer-weighing station.

A table near the cash register hosts frequent bake sales; earlier this week, residents scooped up homemade pies to benefit the local Lions Club. A broad windowsill by the front door serves as a lost and found and drop-off spot for mittens and casserole dishes.

In a region not known for the warmth of its people or its climate, the store functions as a kind of communal hearth, dispelling the myth of the chilly northerner.

“If I feel disconnected, I just go to Coburns’ and see people, and it breaks the isolation you can feel in a small, rural town,” said Annie Penfield, a saddle fitter and writer who is helping with the effort to save the store. “People say, ‘When I first moved here, I went to Coburns’, and Sue and Melvin welcomed me and made me feel like part of the town.’”

Or, as Mr. Kahan sings in “The View Between Villages”: “The things that I lost here, the people I knew / They got me surrounded for a mile or two.”

The songwriter, who is performing in Charleston, S.C., on Saturday as part of a benefit for small businesses affected by Hurricanes Helene and Milton, has called Coburns’ “the heart of the town.”

In his music, Mr. Kahan leans into the bleakness of his native landscape in the colder months. His song “Stick Season” — which has been streamed more than one billion times on Spotify — vividly depicts the dark, empty weeks when the trees are newly bare in Vermont but the snow and ski seasons have not yet begun.

On a rainy November evening, Coburns’ General Store beckons in the gloom, bright and buzzing with conversation as pairs of neighbors catch up in the aisles.

A quick visit to the store “can be done, but it’s difficult,” said Rosi Kerr, a board member for the new community trust.

Though the trust is inviting inquiries from prospective shopkeepers across the country (and has heard from a few already), residents are hoping the job will go to someone who understands the complex dynamics of a small New England town, and can minister to the diverse cast of characters who call it home.

“You’ve got to love people, and you have to treat the underprivileged customer the same way you treat a celebrity,” said Ms. Coburn, 79.

As for what he’ll do in his retirement, Mr. Coburn admitted that he has no hobbies, and said he has no idea how he might fill his time. He would not mind working a couple days a week — maybe at the store, if his successor will have him.

“If they want,” he quickly added, careful to make clear that the next proprietor will be in charge.