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"I always want our auctions to be memorable, but this morning’s auction will be
remembered by all of us for the wrong reasons. We will forever know that we
were at the Park Entrance Auction when this terrible tragedy struck our
country.” So I began my comments on that awful day, Tuesday, 09-11-01.
The morning had begun with great excitement and anticipation. My wife, Ellie,
had kissed me goodbye at a little before 5AM on her to the Portland Jetport to
fly to New York City for an important meeting that morning in Midtown
Manhattan, "I’ll be home for dinner to celebrate your successful sale,” were
her optimistic parting words. After good-byes to my four year old, Hannah, I
picked-up my associate, Carmen, and was off to what promised to be, our sale of
the year.
The Park Entrance Motel is an 8-acre site on the Atlantic Ocean in world famous
Bar Harbor, Maine. With its grand 1300-foot private beach, 200 foot deep water
pier and located just outside Acadia National Park, the property was much more
than a motel. Having received inquiries from across the country, we had reason
to anticipate an exciting morning.
At about 9:45, approximately 15 minutes from the property my cell phone rang
and a local attorney, friend and sometimes prankster, who I was hopeful would
be a strong prospective bidder, was asking if I intended to postpone the sale.
As I queried him on his unusual strategy, he asked if I had been listening to
the radio. I quickly turned on the news station and as he repeated the question
I cut him short as I informed him my wife was somewhere in Manhattan and I’d
see him at the property. At that point the only thing I wanted was to know that
Ellie was safe. I knew her meeting wasn’t in the World Trade Center, but I
didn’t know how close she might be. Frantically dialing and redialing, her cell
phone finally produced her voicemail and in a probably too demanding tone I
said, "Ellie, it’s time to check in.” I’ve never been terribly successful with
technology and today was no different. Without a ring my cell phone showed "
missed call…one message.” The voicemail was from Ellie and in a shaken voice
she said that although she was surrounded in bedlam, she was safe.
It was a perfect day for an auction in Bar Harbor, the sun was shining, the
tide was high, the ocean glistened. Every motel room door was open and every TV
was on. We had 10 qualified bidders, from as far away as Key West, each with
bank checks of $100,000. And everyone and their entourages were glued to the
TVs. As I walked by the rooms I would hear things like, "the other Tower has
fallen…another plane has hit the Pentagon…” Another two bidders thought the
auction should be postponed. I was hearing,” it’s our Pearl Harbor…the world is
coming to an end…if I buy it I’m not sure there will be any money to finance
it.”
My father, who likes to come to many of our sales, had driven up that morning
with my mother to work the crowd and watch the festivities. Seeing my quandary,
he came up to me and said, "I know this is a difficult situation.” Not wanting
to be disrespectful, I patiently listened, but you know I really wasn’t seeking
fatherly advice at this moment. But he looked into my eyes and told me, "this
is when we go to work. This is when we let them know they’re not going to push
us around.” OK, so I was wrong. I did need fatherly advice. I felt my whole
body react…YEAH!
I went and found my client, the president of the bank conducting the
foreclosure and his attorney. Obviously the circumstances were forcing them to
rethink our agreed upon strategy and they were looking for my counsel on
whether to postpone. I pointed to my father, a man whom Tom Brokaw would
describe as a member of the "greatest generation” and told them that he had
just given me some backbone and now was the time to go to work. Besides, if we
couldn’t reach their goal we could always shut it down. I felt their reaction
as they nodded their heads. It was time to go to work.
Carmen, my father and I went to each of the bidders and in some instances
literally grabbed them by the hand and escorted them away from the TV and down
to the beach. As we began to assemble on the lawn looking out over the great
Atlantic there must have been over 100 people; bidders, supporters, borrowers,
attorneys, bankers, press and spectators. The mood was of tremendous
apprehension. Even here, hundreds of miles from New York and Washington rumors
were rampant.
After my opening words, for the second time that morning I pointed out my
father, "a member of the ‘greatest generation’ has reminded me that it isn’t
part of the American character to be pushed around. It’s time to go to work.” I
could see and feel the crowd nod their heads in agreement. I continued, "please
join in a moment of silence for this horrific tragedy which has struck our
country and for those lost this morning that will never have the opportunity to
stand where we stand.” I concluded, " God Bless America.”
Then we went to work. 17 minutes later the Park Entrance was sold for $5.3
million.
Ellie got home the next day via Amtrak. I met her at South Station amid rumors
of bombs and terrorists and I can’t remember ever being so happy to see
someone.
I’m not sure I know 100% of what happened in Bar Harbor on September 11th. I
know we had a great property to sell. I know we had the right buyers. I know we
wouldn’t have wanted to try and put that sale back together on the 12th or
13th. What I am confident of is that the American character was present and a
strong participant in what we were able to accomplish.
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