Cleanliness may be next to godliness, but do you have to go to divinity school to be a better toothpaste maker? That's what Tom Chappell did. It was 1985, and Tom's of Maine, the company Chappell, now 56, and his wife, Kate, 54, founded in 1970, was hitting the big time. Its pioneering all-natural toothpastes and soaps were flying out of health food shops and catching on at mainstream drug stores. But Tom felt troubled. "Everything was being measured in financial terms," he says. "I started to question where I wanted to take my life."

The answer finally came to him: the Harvard Divinity School. Commuting part-time for four years to earn a master's in theological studies, the devoted Episcopalian returned to his Kennebunk, Maine, factory brimming with ideas about how to turn a profit without squeezing out his do-good ideals. The ideas have worked. Donating 10 percent of pretax profits to charitable causes and urging its 120 employees to spend 5 percent of their on-the-clock time doing volunteer work, Tom's of Maine has doubled its annual revenues to $30 million. "We're not running a church here," says CEO Tom (Kate bowed out five years ago to focus on her lifelong love of painting), "but I really, do believe that we can create something better for consumers. And while we're at it, we can also be responsible to nature and society."

Which was precisely the idea in the first place. Back in 1970 the nature lovers borrowed $5,000 from a friend and within a year had created a laundry detergent free of phosphates. In 1975, with the help of scientists, they concocted the first widely marketed toothpaste free of artificial sweeteners, dyes and additives. Three fluoridated flavors won the American Dental Association's seal of acceptance in 1995 after what Tom says was a seven-year struggle to get the ADA to accept tests on human volunteers instead of animals.

The Chappell offerings have not exactly given Crest and Colgate a pasting. But, at around $3 for a 4-ounce tube, Tom's of Maine toothpastes account for a none-too-shabby 1 percent of the huge market (and 65 percent of the company's revenues). Their zingy flavors, like fennel and cinnamint (invented by 14-year-old Chappell son Matt, now 31 and the head of consumer research for the company), along with other products such as all-natural deodorant and mouthwash, have won fans far beyond the granola crowd. Devotees include actor Brendan Fraser and rocker Sting. Tom's toothpaste "strikes a balance between good-tasting and healthy," says Annette Davidson, who says she sells "tons" as a senior buyer for supermarket chain Trader Joe's. "Some of the other natural toothpaste brands taste so bad."

But Tom's of Maine's staunchest fans are the Chappell kids: Chris, 33, Matt, Sarah, 29, Eliza, 24, and Luke, 16. All but high schooler Luke now work for the company full-or part-time. "We were the guinea pigs" for Tom's products, recalls Chris. The family goes on occasional retreats with a facilitator to help smooth out any work-related frictions, which do pop up: Kate, who shows her art at local galleries, says she stepped down partly because "our pillow talk was always about business."

She and Tom share New England roots—though only Tom's was truly a Norman Rockwell childhood. At 11, the son of a Pittsfield, Mass., textile-company manager earned $25 to pose for the artist's Saturday Evening Post cover of an altar boy. Chappell met Kate, the daughter of a Farmington, Conn., insurance executive and an artist, when she was in high school and he was studying English at nearby Trinity College. After a first date at a Ravi Shankar concert, they wed in 1966 and soon got swept up in the era's back-to-the-land spirit. "People were moving to Maine and stirring things up," says Kate.

Today, the stirring takes place in 1,300-gallon vats. And the Chappells keep cooking up new ideas: They recently bought a Vermont herb farm to supply raw materials for an ambitious new line of remedies—including nasal decongestants and cold-fighting echinacea tonics—that hit stores last month. Meanwhile, Tom has written two books on business management and served on the boards of several nonprofit groups. "He's an intense guy, but he's also caring and honest," says Stewart Hudson, head of the pro-wildlife Jane Goodall Institute.

In spare hours the Chappells kick back in their 1799 clapboard house on Kennebunk's main street, visit their ski condo and island cottage or take off in their 35-ft. sailboat. But material wealth, they insist, isn't everything. "You have to have something that feeds you," says Kate, "and numbers aren't digestible."

Samantha Miller
Max Alexander in Kennebunk

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