Russ Bennett sits on the small front patio of his modest mountainside house in Moretown. Strains of bebop jazz can be heard faintly from within, rolling down his gently sloping lawn and adding to the serenity surrounding him. That tranquility contrasts sharply with the difficulties of getting to his home, a journey that entails navigating a series of increasingly steep, winding and narrow dirt roads, inevitable wrong turns and one angry dog with an apparent thing for chasing lost journalists. Bennett is a hard man to track down. Wizards usually are. That he is staring into the MacBook on his lap does little to diminish his mystical aura. He's probably Skyping with his twin brother, Gandalf. Bennett isn't wearing flowing robes. He's a jeans and T-shirt kind of guy. Still, his long white hair and matching beard make him a dead ringer for Tolkien's iconic mage. You won't catch Bennett casting spells or battling ancient demons. But he is a magician of a high order, even if his sorcery is more of the man-behind-the-curtain variety. The founder of NorthLand Visual Design & Construction, Bennett, 66, is a master builder and a genius at morphing the ordinary into the extraordinary. His design work in Vermont has helped transform businesses. His work on Phish mega-festivals — as well as on the Bonnaroo Music and Arts Festival in Tennessee — has served as an inspirational template for modern music-festival culture. Examples of Bennett's unique brand of architectural alchemy can be found all over the country, from the steampunk-chic aesthetic of the Magic Hat Artifactory in South Burlington to the rustic charm of Red Hen Baking and Nutty Steph's in Middlesex to the eclectic Outside Lands festival in San Francisco. Or you could just take a look around his yard. Bennett's plain two-story house is, as mountaintop lairs go, unremarkable. The view of the eastern face of the Green Mountains from the patio, however, is spectacular. "When I built the place, you could see Mansfield," he says, pointing to a stand of trees at the edge of the lawn. "Someday I should probably cut those down." As he waves his hand, I half expect the trees simply to vanish. Then his hand drifts slightly left. "Those are pretty cool, though." A few yards in front of the woods stand two tall, straight trees. One appears to have died some years ago; at its…
Russ Bennett sits on the small front patio of his modest mountainside house in Moretown. Strains of bebop jazz can be heard faintly from within, rolling down his gently sloping lawn and adding to the serenity surrounding him. That tranquility contrasts sharply with the difficulties of getting to his home, a journey that entails navigating a series of increasingly steep, winding and narrow dirt roads, inevitable wrong turns and one angry dog with an apparent thing for chasing lost journalists. Bennett is a hard man to track down. Wizards usually are. That he is staring into the MacBook on his lap does little to diminish his mystical aura. He's probably Skyping with his twin brother, Gandalf. Bennett isn't wearing flowing robes. He's a jeans and T-shirt kind of guy. Still, his long white hair and matching beard make him a dead ringer for Tolkien's iconic mage. You won't catch Bennett casting spells or battling ancient demons. But he is a magician of a high order, even if his sorcery is more of the man-behind-the-curtain variety. The founder of NorthLand Visual Design & Construction, Bennett, 66, is a master builder and a genius at morphing the ordinary into the extraordinary. His design work in Vermont has helped transform businesses. His work on Phish mega-festivals — as well as on the Bonnaroo Music and Arts Festival in Tennessee — has served as an inspirational template for modern music-festival culture. Examples of Bennett's unique brand of architectural alchemy can be found all over the country, from the steampunk-chic aesthetic of the Magic Hat Artifactory in South Burlington to the rustic charm of Red Hen Baking and Nutty Steph's in Middlesex to the eclectic Outside Lands festival in San Francisco. Or you could just take a look around his yard. Bennett's plain two-story house is, as mountaintop lairs go, unremarkable. The view of the eastern face of the Green Mountains from the patio, however, is spectacular. "When I built the place, you could see Mansfield," he says, pointing to a stand of trees at the edge of the lawn. "Someday I should probably cut those down." As he waves his hand, I half expect the trees simply to vanish. Then his hand drifts slightly left. "Those are pretty cool, though." A few yards in front of the woods stand two tall, straight trees. One appears to have died some years ago; at its…