Keeping His Promise
Colby gave him the tools to become his best self, and now Daniel Franklin ’10 is helping others do the same at Jenna's Promise, a novel new ‘recovery community’ in Vermont
Daniel Franklin limped toward Cotter Union on crutches, wearing a brace from his hip to ankle. Then a junior at Colby, he was recovering from the latest in a string of injuries that had dogged him since high school, including a torn ACL, broken leg, injured back, and damage to his labrum and rotator cuff.
He had not become addicted to the narcotics that his doctors had prescribed for years to manage his pain. But he was on the edge.
Then a classmate stopped him and asked, “Why don’t you smile anymore?”
The question changed his life.
“I realized in that moment, as much as the opioids were taking away my physical pain, they were stealing my happiness and joy and much more,” Franklin said. “And while I am generally a congenial, outgoing person, the medications robbed me of the opportunity to be my best self.”
Franklin ’10 weaned himself from the Vicodin, Percocet, and OxyContin that he had taken for seven years and graduated from Colby as a dual major in history and German studies. He went on to earn his master’s in history at Utah State University.
He assumed he would spend his career in education or academia. Instead, he’s become his best self as one of Vermont’s most effective advocates for people in recovery. As the chief operating officer of a nonprofit called Jenna’s Promise, Franklin has helped create a novel new recovery community in the town of Johnson, where the mills that gave the region its economic clout have almost all closed. In its decline, Johnson became another small New England community riven by the destructive force of opioids.
But today, Johnson is a place where recovery thrives.
Supported by public and private funds and named after a community member who died of an overdose in 2019, Jenna’s Promise cares for people with substance use disorders, mental health challenges, and complex traumas. It serves people in recovery from addiction, survivors of sexual and domestic violence and human trafficking, and formerly incarcerated individuals.
At the same time, Jenna’s Promise provides care and economic recovery for the wider community, and its early success may serve as a paradigm-shifting model for recovery networks that can save individual lives and transform towns.
Jenna’s Promise is unique among recovery programs because it offers what Franklin calls “a whole-person, whole-life approach” to recovery by providing people with a constellation of services, most significantly safe places to live and work, along with a network of support and opportunities to aid their recovery. In addition to sober housing and steady jobs, those services include clinical and medical care that recognizes substance use disorders as treatable conditions, an active support community, and a workforce development program with job training that prepares people to live independently.
Beyond the human aspect, Jenna’s Promise has bought and renovated more than a half-dozen buildings in Johnson, nearly all of which had been shuttered.
“We historically haven’t seen a lot of places for people to live and work when they are struggling and seeking recovery that really foster recovery,” Franklin said. “A lot of towns don’t want people who are struggling with addiction, even though they are all around us. There is a lot of NIMBYism when it comes to people who are struggling.”
With a skill set that includes team management, grant writing, teaching, and marketing, Franklin is motivated above all by compassion and empathy, along with a vigorous commitment to helping people. He sees his role as an effective community leader and advocate as an extension of his time in Waterville.
“Two things that a place like Colby can help teach are first and foremost how to learn, and second how to pivot, evolve, adapt, and grow when life throws you curveballs and forces you to change,” said Franklin. “It’s not one’s major or even graduate degree that determines one’s course in life, but rather how we each make use of our talents and gifts.”
It takes a village
Jenna’s Promise is named after Jenna Rae Tatro, a Johnson resident who died of an overdose at age 26 in February 2019. Her parents, Dawn and Greg Tatro, began the organization soon after and hired Franklin to run it in July 2022.
By then, Franklin was well-regarded in Vermont’s recovery community. Prior to joining Jenna’s Promise, he was executive director of the North Central Vermont Recovery Center and then vice president of the Vermont Association for Mental Health and Addiction Recovery, where he helped secure some of the largest investments in recovery services in the state’s history. In 2021 he received the Vermont Business Wellness Leader Award from the Governor’s Council on Physical Fitness and Sports. That same year, he also received a Lamoille Hero Award for his work during the Covid-19 pandemic to respond to the needs of residents of Lamoille Valley.
While he never knew Jenna personally, Franklin began working with the Tatro family soon after Jenna passed away. Franklin offered advice and ideas to her parents as they were beginning Jenna’s Promise before joining as the organization’s chief operating officer.
The impact of Jenna’s Promise is evident across Johnson, a community of 3,500 people about a 30-minute drive north of Stowe. It’s nestled in the middle of an area of the Green Mountains that is known for its skiing and snowboarding, as well as spectacular fall foliage.
Two rivers, the Lamoille and Gihon, run through town, giving the community its character and some of its history as a mill economy powered by water. The Johnson Woolen Mills, makers of wool clothing since the mid-1800s, still operate in town, but Johnson sustained massive economic losses during the decline of the traditional mill economy. The best jobs disappeared, many of the buildings in the center of town became vacant and dilapidated, and the town developed one of the highest poverty rates in a state where one in 12 residents lives with substance use disorder.
Things feel different today. There’s optimism and a sense of hope.
Downtown is rebounding, with new banks, restaurants, and shops. Alongside an outdoors outfitter and a local grocery store are a half-dozen of formerly dilapidated buildings that have been renovated and now are filled with businesses, services, and residences under the umbrella of Jenna’s Promise.
At the heart of downtown is Jenna’s Coffee House, which opened in late 2022 and is staffed in part by people in recovery. Over the winter and spring, it has become a commercial hub and social gathering spot with its large tables, friendly atmosphere, and assorted sandwiches, baked goods, and drinks hot and cold.
The ‘Fancy House’
Built as a residence in 1884, the structure was known locally as the “Fancy House” because of its stained-glass windows, large front porch, and ornate moldings. It had been vacant for five years and became an eyesore and community blemish before its renovation.
The decision to buy and renovate the old “Fancy House” changed the trajectory of Jenna’s Promise and how the community perceived both the work of the organization and addiction itself, Dawn Tatro said.
“It had been the gem of the town for so long, but it was looking very ragged. We just decided it would be a good idea to create a place where people could connect, and a coffeehouse is a way to do that,” she said. “If we can give the community a place to come, and they come in to support the people working here in recovery, it changes the whole dynamic of stigma. They become invested because they come in every day and develop relationships with the people who work there.”
Particularly as it relates to steady work, the coffeehouse creates precisely the kind of opportunity Jenna never had. “Jenna always struggled. She was a drug addict, and no one wanted to take a chance on her,” Dawn Tatro said. “She fell through all the cracks. We started Jenna’s Promise to fill those cracks.”
Building community with coffee
The coffee shop operates as a partnership between Jenna’s Promise and a local restaurant, Two Sons Bakehouse, which provides the food. The beans come from Jenna’s Promise Roasting Co., whose motto is “Strengthening Our Community with Coffee.”
Conceived to fill a need in the community while generating revenue for the organization, the roasting company is among the social enterprises operated by Jenna’s Promise. The roasting company recently won a contract to provide coffee at Vermont’s 15 highway rest areas, and began fulfilling that contract in May—a huge opportunity, Franklin said. “Securing that contract is not just a solid foundation for our business, but it gets our mission in front of the more than two-and-a-half million people who visit our rest areas every year.”
Across the parking lot is JP’s Promising Goods, a surplus goods reseller. In addition to clothing, household goods, and other similar items, JP’s Promising Goods sells scratch-and-dent household appliances at discount prices. They are refurbished by a small team of technicians.
The coffee roasting operation, the retail store, and the organization’s administrative offices are part of the complex of the old Parker & Stearns lumber company, which became vacant seven years ago. With several other buildings on the property, there is room to grow with “other new social enterprises or partnerships,” Franklin said.
Back to church
Around the corner is Jenna’s House, in the former St. John the Apostle Church, built in 1948. The building, which sits on 2.9 acres of land, had been vacant for about five years when the Tatros purchased it in the months after Jenna died. They paid $235,000 for the vacant church, precisely the amount of money they received from Jenna’s life insurance policy.
When it functioned as a place of worship, St. John the Apostle was the home church of the Tatros, a respected local couple who own and operate a third-generation construction company, G.W. Tatro Construction. They were married there, and it’s where Jenna celebrated her first communion.
Today, it’s a gathering spot for events that are open to the community, including yoga classes and Halloween parties, a meeting place for Jenna’s Promise residents and their families, and a lunch stop for people who want to share a free hot meal.
“We decided we could lay down and die—which is what I really wanted to do because Jenna was not just my daughter, but my best friend—or we could do something,” Dawn Tatro said, explaining the couple’s motivation for buying the church and opening it to the community. “We decided to give the community back its space.”
Jenna’s Promise operates three residences that house up to 17 women at a time with a waiting list with twice that many names at times. One of those residences was a notorious drug house, and the others were vacant. Franklin takes particular pleasure in converting a property that had been a safe space for drug dealers into a safe home for those recovering from addiction. Women may stay for as long as 12 or 15 months, and there is no time limit for their recovery.
“It’s more about meeting benchmarks for people from pursuing recovery, to being in recovery, to maintaining work, to career development, going to college, and getting references so they can go off into a field of their choice,” Franklin said. “We help them do what they need to do to go on and have their own apartments and homes, and we help them reunite and heal relationships with their families, if they want to.”
There are plans to eventually open residences for men and women with children, as only two homes exist in Vermont currently where children can live with their mothers while they pursue recovery.
‘We’re literally changing a community’
All of the businesses of Jenna’s Promise are staffed by people in recovery. There are currently 21 people on the payroll, and the annual budget is $1.8 million. The seed money came from Greg and Dawn Tatro, who have invested $1.5 million over the years. Their son and Jenna’s brother, Gregory, and his wife, Amy, are cofounders and serve on the board while supporting daily operations.
“On the macro, we’re literally changing a community,” Franklin said. “We provide employment not just to women but also to men, we are one of the biggest employers in the community, and we have rehabilitated a lot of buildings. We have returned some economic vitality to the town and the region. In this case, recovery has more than one meaning.”
Jenna’s Promise also helped open the Johnson Health Center in a vacant former Subway restaurant. Jenna’s Promise bought and renovated the building, and Caroline Butler, a nurse practitioner who specializes in treating people with substance use disorders, opened the nonprofit healthcare organization.
In addition to specializing in addiction treatment, the health center provides primary care to residents of a community that had been without a healthcare provider for six years.
“We came here with the idea that it was going to be a small addiction-medicine practice, and once we got it established, we realized the need for community healthcare was so great we had to open up our services to address those broader needs,” Butler said, praising Franklin and Jenna’s Promise for creating the conditions to make it happen. “It’s been an amazing experience, and they are an amazing organization.”
This month, the Johnson Health Center will be the first location in Vermont to install a naloxone vending machine to readily dispense the opioid overdose antidote, which comes in the form of a nasal spray commonly known as Narcan. The result of a partnership among Jenna’s Promise, Johnson Health Center, and the University of Vermont’s Center on Rural Addiction, the vending machine will be set up outside the clinic’s front door, giving ready and judgment-free access to a life-saving medication without cost.
Jenna’s Promise and their recovery village model are getting noticed. Last year, Vermont Gov. Phil Scott championed the work of Jenna’s Promise before the state legislature and helped secure $500,000 in state funding. A Colby alumnus who wished to remain anonymous kicked in another $100,000, which helped Jenna’s Promise Roasting Co. to grow and could serve as the catalyst for Jenna’s Promise to reach its ultimate goal of self-sustainability.
Trey Anastasio of the band Phish, a Vermont resident whose foundation recently opened a residential recovery center, made a testimonial video.
Addressing the stigma
Beyond their financial support and personal commitment to solving a problem that took Jenna from them, the standing of the Tatros in the community has helped address a key roadblock to many recovery programs: stigma.
“Greg and Dawn, being respected business leaders, they made it relatable,” said Dave McAllister, executive director of Laraway Youth & Family Services of Johnson. “If it happened to them, it could happen to us. And if we keep our head in the sand and we do not start talking about it, it will happen to us.”
Greg Tatro believes the key to the success of Jenna’s Promise is the volume and tone of the conversation.
“Everyone was whispering. Everyone was quiet. Parents are ashamed. They go in the closet, and that is what the drug dealers want,” he said. “They want it quiet. They want to come in and do their work and leave without anybody knowing who they are. Or when someone passes away like Jenna, they don’t want people to know about it. So we decided right off the bat, we are going to speak loudly, and people are going to hear this.”
Every other week, Jenna’s Promise hosts a family support group talking session at Jenna’s House. A dozen or so people gather around tables arranged in a rectangle in the former sanctuary. Parents tell stories about their sons and daughters. People in recovery talk about what is going well, what they need, what they are thinking, and how they are feeling.
It’s a raw, difficult discussion. As one couple shares hopeful news about a loved one in recovery, a woman seated across the table laments through tears of rage and anguish that she has not heard from her daughter in weeks. She is worried, upset, and doesn’t know what to do.
There are no easy answers. But Jenna’s Promise offers these families something Jenna Rae Tatro never had—simply, the chance to become her best self.
When the evening is over, Franklin turns off the lights and heads out into the dark Vermont night, home to dinner with his partner, Corrina, and their 3-year-old son, Josiah.