1974
A patio in San Pedro Sula where it begins.
A twenty-three-year-old craftsman walked onto his family's patio with a hammer, a hole punch, and a single piece of cowhide. He had no factory, no investors, no brand name — only a conviction that the finest leather goods in the world could be made right here, by Honduran hands. The first wallet he ever sold was stitched by candlelight. Neighbors began to knock on the door asking for belts, then billfolds, then bags. A name whispered through the barrio soon carried across the city: Danilo.
