Georges Viana surveyed a factory floor filled with silent, outdated machinery. Then, a quick, scuttling movement caught the corner of one eye: rats. He hadn’t known what to expect when he arrived in the city of Caen, 150 miles west of his Paris home, but rats were not high on the list. A technology executive with 25 years of experience, Viana (PGL 4, 2001) was tired of implementing strategies focused on short-term profit. He had been looking for a small technology company to purchase and run on his own terms. Curiosity had brought him here, far from the sleek, humming offices that were his usual domain.

A couple of months earlier, in February 2014, Viana had read an article in the newspaper Le Parisien about Biscuiterie Jeannette, a company founded in Caen in 1850 and known across France for its madeleines—the shell-shaped little cakes that rank with Brie, foie gras, and croissants in the pantheon of classic French treats. In the 1980s, the company employed nearly 400 workers and enjoyed a 40 percent market share. Subjected to a series of buyouts, the product line shifted to a more mass-market approach that led to a general decline in sales through the 1990s. When Jeannette was finally liquidated at the end of 2013, it employed a few dozen people. Now some of those workers, mostly women in their 50s, were occupying the factory around the clock in eight-hour shifts to prevent the sale of the equipment and to somehow get back to the business of baking.

It wasn’t what Viana had been imagining for the next phase of his career, but the story moved him. He had fond memories of snacking on madeleines as a young child—most likely Jeannette madeleines, although he couldn’t be certain. The son of a construction worker, Viana was born in Portugal and grew up in Grenoble, France, the third of five children. The family placed a heavy emphasis on the value of good, honest labor; at 18, he became a firefighter to help pay his university expenses. The occupying workers also came from large families, and many had started working at Jeannette as teenagers. Their prospects for employment were dim after decades of making madeleines in one of Caen’s last factories, a building that had survived two world wars.

The occupation was widely covered in the French media, with public sentiment favoring the no-nonsense workers hunkered down with their sleeping bags for the long haul. Viana also admired their grit. And he recognized the global cachet of quality French products. Here was something different, and maybe more meaningful, than leading a technology company. France’s manufacturing sector was still struggling in the wake of the 2008 financial crisis. In Jeannette, Viana saw the potential to write a new chapter, to set an example.

But he was also a realist. On that trip to Caen, it became clear that saving the company and the workers’ jobs would require a new factory and new equipment—in short, way more money than he could afford to borrow or invest.

Another rat scuttled by. The factory, its walls covered with union stickers and pro-worker graffiti, contained the seeds for change. Any practical businessman, however, could see that despite the story’s romance, reviving Jeannette was an equation that didn’t add up. Viana returned to Paris. He would not be making an offer for the company.

Yet the company, and its workers, formed the grain of an idea that began to grow in Viana’s mind. “Jeannette, for me, became a double mission, the first being to save the company,” he says. Just past 50, with a full salt-and-pepper beard, Viana rarely smiles but somehow radiates a benign intensity. “There were jobs to be created and families hoping for a solution. The second was that it could be a model for other companies in a similar situation. The economic climate in France was difficult, with companies dying every day. I wanted to show that they had to become more responsive and agile.”

Not long after returning from that initial factory tour, Viana realized two things: First, no bank would touch Jeannette. Second, the government, which had expressed an interest in seeing such an old, French company continue, would not be stepping up with any tangible assistance. Back in Paris, he telephoned the Ministry of Finance to report he would not be making an offer; the factory was a disaster. No, no, he was told—we’ll help you. “I said well, if the minister of finance says he will help find the money, bon,” Viana recalls. “In fact, he did nothing.”

The contacts he made in the food industry were equally discouraging. “They told me I was crazy, that Jeannette was dead, that near the end they had been producing the worst madeleines in France. To restart production and change its image at the same time—impossible. Like changing a Renault to a Rolls-Royce.”

By the end of July, the business tribunal in Caen was considering four offers for the Jeannette brand and leftover machinery, Viana’s among them. Two focused solely on the purchase of the machinery; one proposed buying the machinery for €2 and eventually rehiring 6 of the original workers at a yet-to-be-constructed plant 40 miles from Caen. Viana’s bid to produce luxury madeleines in a new, nearby location with 16 of the original workers was the obvious favorite, but it required an estimated €2.8 million he had yet to secure. The tribunal postponed its decision until a satisfactory offer presented itself.

Viana sensed that the workers, and brand, enjoyed broad-based public support. So he turned to crowdfunding, still a relatively unfamiliar concept in France, posting his cause on the site Bulb in Town and cross- promoting his efforts on a Facebook page dedicated to relaunching Jeannette. The response was immediate, with 2,245 contributions of €300 to €10,000 coming in from France as well as Australia, Korea, the United States, England, Belgium, Switzerland, and Germany. The grand total of just over €439,000 was more than Viana had expected, but it was still not enough. “On the one hand, I understood the banks’ response, but I also knew my strategy and business plan would revive the company,” he says. “There were jobs to be created and families hoping for a solution.”

Viana had been in a similarly tight spot at other times in his career. He was a fixer, a problem solver who had lived or worked in 20 countries, including Colombia, Eritrea, Morocco, Nigeria, Peru, and Romania, successfully addressing difficult issues involving corruption, cost overruns, and inefficiency. Every situation had a shared trait: No one had come up with a solution or thought one was possible.

From that perspective, securing financing was just another challenge to hammer away at, which is what Viana did. Media coverage continued to accumulate, resulting in more contacts. Over time, a small but significant handful of private investors, including Viana’s father-in-law, stepped forward with stakes of €100,000 and above. A regional grant available to Normandy businesses was good for €100,000. Finally, one bank did come around, loaning another €300,000. A local Normandy cookie maker, Biscuiterie de l’Abbaye, chipped in. And Viana himself put in €300,000 of his own capital. It all added up to roughly €1.5 million—not the €2.8 million of his original proposal, but enough to be awarded rights to the brand in November 2014.

Finding a building for the new factory was another hurdle. “Whenever I tried to negotiate with an owner in Caen, they would say no, we cannot rent to Jeannette. We don’t know what will happen: Maybe in a year you’ll be down, and then I’ll have all the workers occupying my building,” Viana recalls. He ventured a bit outside the city limits and found a newly constructed building in the suburb of Démouville. “They said it was fine. They had been following our story and wanted to help.” The landlord handed over the keys in April 2015, and the sprint began to fine-tune recipes, get new equipment in place, and train the workers in a completely new way of making madeleines.

There is nothing so mysterious about a little cake made of butter, sugar, eggs, flour, and a bit of vanilla. It’s the aroma those ingredients make in a hot oven that can cause anyone in the vicinity to inhale deeply and wonder, in an animal sort of way, how to hunt down and eat the thing making that smell. Then there’s the madeleine’s iconic shell shape and, if they’re baked properly, the bosse that pops up to create an enticing little bump.

Viana points out the bosse as he breaks off a small piece of golden-colored sponge. “I taste them like wine,” he explains as he nibbles, exercising the right of quality control while showing off an industrial refrigerator stacked with free-range eggs and 25-kilo blocks of Normandy butter. Trays of madeleines cool on racks. A few feet away, workers monitor a machine that wraps the tiny cakes individually in cellophane before hand-packing each in boxes labeled in elegant script: Biscuiterie Jeannette 1850.

In September 2015, a little less than 18 months after touring Jeannette’s original factory in Caen, Viana watched as the first madeleines exited a high-tech Italian oven in its brand-new Démouville facility. Twelve of the original workers joined this fresh incarnation of the company, training on new equipment and executing recipes with a focus on local, fresh ingredients and luxury flavors ranging from Tahitian vanilla to rose raspberry to yuzu, all masterminded by pastry chef and consultant Philippe Parc. Near the end of its first life, Jeannette madeleines were made with oil and industrial egg product “so pale you could hardly tell the yolk from the white,” says Viana. The factory manufactured madeleines for generic store brands—the product could end up anywhere, under any label. Morale and management were thin. Some worked only two hours a day. It didn’t seem to matter.

Marie-Claire Marie, 57, punched in for her first shift at Jeannette when she was 16 years old. “I was the 11th in a family of 11 children,” she says, sitting at a break table near the workers’ locker area. “All my brothers and sisters worked at Jeannette. At the time it was a big company and easy to get work. I had good grades in school but wanted something else.” When Viana made Marie head of production for the new Jeannette, a few male workers protested: Women worked in packaging, men in production. But why? Viana asked. That is how it had always been.

“Maybe because I don’t have experience in the food industry, I’m thinking differently,” Viana says. When outfitting the new factory, for instance, Viana wasn’t sure if he should put a glass window between the production area and factory outlet store. Maybe the workers wouldn’t like being watched by customers while they worked. No, they said, it’s fine. We’re helping the clients, and we like looking at them too.

“We’re proud to start again, to make these new products that taste so different,” says Marie. “It’s not only a job, it’s a passion.”

At the old Jeannette, machine-filled madeleine molds rolled through industrial ovens, popping out fully baked on the other side. Now the workers prepared each batter—one day it might be almond, pistachio, or coffee—then piped it into molds for baking. “Before, almost everything was automated,” says Régine Podgorny, who celebrated her 40th anniversary with Jeannette in September. “It’s interesting now. Everything is by hand. It’s not the same work we knew at the beginning.”

“It’s a new Jeannette and a new product that has nothing to do with the old one,” says Marie-Claire Marie. “Artisanal. Small ovens. Free-range eggs. Des produits de terroir,” she adds, using a phrase to describe how a locale—literally, the soil—can influence a product’s taste. The butter used in Jeannette madeleines, for example, comes from local Normandy cows, a region known for its dairy products.

Not all of the original Jeannette workers were enthusiastic about making the transition to a new way of doing things. They are no longer with the company. “Some of them weren’t aligned with the strategy,” Viana explains. “I’m not saying we’ll accept anything. But, globally, I’m trying to take into account the human aspect of running a business, not just the financial aspect.

“Jeannette is the oldest startup in France, with the highest median worker age,” adds Viana, who even managed to talk his way into office space at an incubator a few miles from the factory.

“Jeannette was to become a textbook case, so there was no choice: I had to succeed.”

About 24,000 madeleines, with a shelf life of 50 days, pop out of Jeannette ovens every week. Sales from the company’s factory outlet store alone currently account for 34 percent of that yield; internet sales (limited to France and Belgium) and distribution to regional gourmet stores and supermarkets account for the rest. Capacity—and distribution—are the next challenges for Jeannette. “Today the factory is working well, but it is not enough,” says Viana. “We have to be a step ahead all the time.” He cites a quote from famed racing driver Mario Andretti that came up during an HBS classroom discussion: “If everything seems under control, you’re just not going fast enough.”

“I found the case method very pragmatic,” Viana says as he navigates his car to the nearby town of Bayeux for a customer check-in. His days at HBS began at 7 a.m. and ended at 1 or 2 a.m., always with the next day’s cases and a French-English dictionary at his side. A classmate from Red Bull shared plenty of the company’s energy drink to keep everyone going. “We learned that no model works for every company. You have to play the right card at the right time.”

His car phone rings. It’s Marie, back at the factory. They’re down a worker for tomorrow’s schedule, and she’s having trouble finding a replacement. That morning, the problem had been construction workers, still on the premises despite a weekend deadline for a new cooling room. With 20 local businesspeople due to arrive for a tour and lunch, Viana had grabbed a broom without comment and began sweeping up the sawdust. Never mind that he had two secretaries at his last job, an expense account, and all the perks of a senior executive. The floor had to be clean when the visitors arrived, and he was the one to do it.

These are the issues that fill Viana’s day, at least until he finds a factory manager. The last hire didn’t work out—it’s tricky to find someone with the right balance of experience and interpersonal skills to manage such seasoned workers. Viana continues to talk while casually squeezing his SUV into an impossibly tiny spot along one of the narrow streets in Bayeux’s historic center. His last real vacation with his wife and three children was three years ago, to the United States: New York, Florida, and California. His first paycheck from Jeannette was in September, the same month the company posted a profit.

Viana has come to see Au Comptoir des Saveurs, one of Jeannette’s first commercial accounts. The owner of this small gourmet shop wasn’t interested initially in carrying madeleines, which in Viana’s mind made her the perfect blank slate. After agreeing to take 20 boxes, she called a few days later and asked for more. Now the store sells an average of 100 boxes each week. Like any good entrepreneur, Viana engages a man standing near the Jeannette display, opening a box and offering a sample. Yes, he knew the Jeannette story, but it’s not clear that madeleines were on his shopping list until he snacked on the little cake (this time with the classic flavor of Tahitian vanilla). Getting people to try the product is the first step to securing a new customer. Viana sends the man to the register, beaming, with two complimentary boxes.

Viana is hopeful that madeleines could have a moment similar to that enjoyed by macarons, the pastel-colored meringue cookies sandwiched together with buttercream that have crossed the Atlantic to dethrone cupcakes. In a store the other day he saw madeleine-scented shampoo and madeleine-flavored yogurt. With the help of Philippe Parc he is pushing the envelope on new flavors and fine-tuning sugar-free, gluten-free, and organic products. A truffle-flavored madeleine was a definite no-go, but a hybrid confection created in partnership with a local cream puff shop seems to be hitting the sweet spot for those who like something creamy in their little cake.

By April 2017, Viana will oversee production in a new, larger factory that will increase Jeannette’s output sixfold (including organic products), with the original location dedicated to making gluten-free madeleines. The workforce is expected to increase from 19 to 25, possibly more. It’s the next phase of Jeannette—with added capacity, the company will be in position to expand its distribution exponentially and ship internationally.

The story of how a 166-year-old brand came to be born again through the pride and determination of a handful of workers and an unexpected champion has been referred to in the French media as a conte de fée, a fairy tale. It’s a description Viana loves as much as the next person, even if the transformation didn’t happen with the wave of a magic wand. “My main objective was to demonstrate that we could change a company by innovating a traditional product. We’ve done that, with workers who have an average age of 55. Jeannette is not really a company, it’s a different way of thinking.”

It’s telling that the workers of Jeannette have as clear a vision for the company’s legacy as Viana, who imagines his children’s children enjoying Jeannette madeleines. On break but still wearing her hairnet and white uniform, Régine Podgorny predicts the future: “We will be in our retirement, proud of what we’ve done, the young workers coming up behind us.”

There is nothing more to say. With that, she gets up to return to work: “L’aventure Jeannette continue.”

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