by Luke Lively
Ledger then stepped into uncharted territory.
“Your chairman is one of the most liked bankers in the Southeast United States. But he is ready to retire. I also understand he is sick—even though he isn’t willing to share that information. If Benny is not around to lead your bank, who will? I know Jack Oliver. He is a great banker . . . in Philadelphia. You have one question to ask yourself. Where will you be tomorrow without Merchants?”
My face was now crimson. Benny looked pale; almost defeated. Ledger thanked the board for their time, smiling at Benny and patting him on the shoulder.
Benny stood. His frailty was exposed as he struggled to lift himself from his chair. If I perceived him like this, I thought, I wonder how everyone else perceived him. Ledger may have won.
“Mr. Ledger, we are glad we’re such a prized catch,” Benny said. “We must have been doing something right all of these years.” There was some nervous laughter before he continued. “All of you know how much I enjoy questions. I’m glad Mr. Ledger asked a question. It’s a simple question. How we answer may very well determine whether we will agree to sell our company to Merchants Bank. ‘Where will we be tomorrow without Merchants?’” Benny leaned forward and unclasped his hands, placing his outstretched fingers on the wobbly metal table in front of him.
“Let me address where we will be tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow; next month; and even next year. We will still be here without Merchants as long as we choose to be. We choose our destiny. I have not told anyone about my health. How Mr. Ledger has discovered confidential information and then chose to use it to gain leverage is something each of you will judge as to whether it was ethical or not.” Ledger squirmed in his chair and crossed his arms, looking in the direction of Ron Landreau. Landreau had his head down with his arms crossed on the table.
“I brought in a great banker,” Benny said as he pointed toward me. “He’s not just great in Philadelphia but also here in Virginia. Jack Oliver will not do as well as me as a leader; he will do better than me. Jack is doing a wonderful job and is part of our family.” With each word Benny’s voice sounded fuller. His frail frame appeared to transform in front of us into a younger and energetic man.
“While I don’t believe it is proper or necessary to talk about my illness in this setting, I will do so because it now stands as an issue. I was diagnosed over six months ago with cancer. I had planned on stepping down soon and handing over the reins to Jack. I will die, but all of us in this room will do the same at some time in the future. None of us are graced with a body that will not degenerate and finally give out. Mine may do so sooner than I would like, but that is not what this meeting is about.” My eyes were filling with tears. I heard Sherry quietly sob as Benny continued.
“Since Mr. Ledger wanted to link the two as a cause and effect, I will do so, too. Here is my question. What do we want to be remembered for? Is it how much money we made? Are we going to stamp our financial statement, audited, of course, on our tombstone?” he asked, smiling and standing straight. He reached down with his right hand and lightly struck the tabletop. I could see everyone had now lifted their heads and was looking at him.
“I’m not saying this in sarcasm or anger. I’m asking a very valid question. When we started this bank we said we were doing it to replace a bank that we all lost—or should I say—sold. We sold a part of the Salem and Roanoke history. We turned over control to someone far removed from our community.” The words were coming quicker. He opened his arms wide and continued. “We were greedy, and we agreed that to make up for that greed, we would establish a new financial institution that was based on service, not profits.” Bringing his hands back together he smiled and paused. “We created a bank that would never ignore someone because of a lack of zeros behind a number tied to their name. We created a place where people would want to work and people would feel safe putting their money. We accomplished what we set out to do and more. Citizens Bank is at its strongest, not at its weakest as Mr. Ledger has said. We made a promise; a promise I’m keeping,” he said. He nodded his head affirmatively and stepped back, looking at the projection screen with a slide entitled “Return on Investment.”
“If you want to sell this bank, I will not fight the transaction. I just want you to answer the question I posed. What do you want to be remembered for? Speaking for myself, I don’t want to be remembered for breaking my promise and my commitment to everyone who works at Citizens and who are clients of Citizens.” Benny positioned himself so he was looking directly at Landreau and Ledger. “But I’ll give you one chance to have my approval and consent, Mr. Ledger,” he said gazing at the slumping figure.
“Can you promise me, Mr. Ledger, that all of our people will be working here, with the same salaries and opportunities they now possess, in six months? In one year? In two years? Do you promise to keep our local management team intact? Will you promise me there will be no layoffs? Will you promise that you will treat every client with the same respect and dignity they now receive? Will you promise me that our community will continue to receive the same support?” He paused. “Mr. Ledger, if you will promise me those things—on your word—in front of these people, I will make the motion to approve the sale of Citizens Bank. Will you promise, Mr. Ledger?”
Ledger was stunned. He looked around the room and stood. I knew he would agree, lying to get what he wanted. Benny had given away the bank, I thought.
“You want a promise? That’s not part of doing business. There’s no room for promises. There’s a price you pay for getting a huge premium: your control. If you sell Citizens it will then be Merchants Bank’s. You want honesty, there it is. No promises! This is not about promises. This is not about how you or I will be remembered. This is not about service. This is about profits. That’s what doing business is all about—the bottom line.” He couldn’t seem to stop talking.
“I am offering each of you more money than you would have ever dreamt of. You’ll never get another chance to make this much money. That’s why I am here. Call me greedy, call me arrogant, but you can call yourself richer if you agree to sell your bank. That’s your choice.” Pausing, he looked at Benny. “I agree with your chairman. We’re all going to die someday and we better get what we can now. The choice is yours.” He sat back down, tall and straight in his chair staring at Benny, a smile now stretching across his face.
“You were honest, I’ll give you that,” Benny said. “You answered the questions.”
Sherry Carter stood up. Sherry, as one of the largest shareholders, had the most to gain. She had worked for years, twelve-hour-plus days doing every job in the restaurant. If anyone would be interested in the large premium offered by Ledger, she would be the one, I thought.
“Benny, I’m with you,” she said with traces of tears in her eyes. “Mr. Ledger, you could not be more wrong. We did not set out to get rich from starting Citizens Bank. We set out to help our community and make a positive difference in people’s lives. I don’t want your money, and I don’t want your bank in my town.”
Jerry Culver, the owner of a car dealership in Roanoke and the oldest member of the board, stood as soon as Sherry finished speaking. Jerry was part of Ron’s group of pro-Merchants directors. “Mr. Ledger, you are greed personified. You’ll never get my vote. I don’t want your money.”
Ron Landreau interrupted the mumbling and undercurrent of sound. Squeezing himself upward from his chair and hushing the mumbling with his loud, southern twang, Ron Landreau said, “My dear friends, I’m the person who was responsible for bringing this offer to the table today. Mr. Ledger, I apologize for taking up your valuable time.” Ron dropped his head and looked down at the package of Merchants information. “I’ve learned something in the past few minutes. I remembered why I am here.” Visibly struggling to speak with emotion crackling every syllable of every word, he continued. “I’m not as eloquent as Sherry, Jerry, and Benny about why we formed Citizens, but I do have something to say. I am to blame. I am at fault. I owe
each of you an apology from the bottom of my heart. I don’t want to be remembered for selling Citizens Bank. I don’t want to be remembered for breaking the same promise Benny and all of us made twenty years ago. That promise is what binds us. It created our purpose, the purpose that made our bank great and unique.” Wiping away tears from his eyes and pausing to gain his composure, Ron spoke in a loud booming voice. “Mr. Chairman, I make a motion to reject the offer made by Merchants Bank!”
Jerry seconded the motion without a pause. The board passed the vote unanimously. A loud applause erupted. Tears were in almost everyone’s eyes. Ron walked to the front of the room and hugged Benny. I could see his lips say, “I’m sorry, friend.”
I do not know how Ledger got out of the room, but he disappeared.
We had won. But Benny was sick.
My best friend was going to die.
A confused mind is a fearful mind.
—BENJAMIN FRANKLIN PRICE
41. How Could You Say No?
“HOW COULD YOU SAY NO?” The question illuminated the shock in the community. The story of how greed lost spread rapidly. News of the failed attempt to buy Citizens Bank hit the financial reporting news wires. DAVID DEFEATS GOLIATH was the headline in the Wall Street Journal. For a few days the bank that said no was famous. But Benny refused to do interviews.
While the celebration of our fight to survive continued locally, I was more concerned about my friend. I didn’t say anything to him driving back to the office after the board meeting. I was going to let Benny bring it up when he wanted to.
On Thursday morning in our usual start-of-the-day progress meeting, Benny was ready to talk. “Jack, I didn’t want to keep my illness a secret from you. I simply felt like it was not time to talk about it. I didn’t want it to be an issue in the board’s decision process,” he said. “I’m sorry if you think I deceived you in any way.”
“Benny, I never thought anything like that, I understand. But I’m concerned. Not about the bank, but about you.”
“The doctors never gave me a good outlook. They said I would be lucky to be around in six months, but I’m still here. Now, it does look like things have slid somewhat.”
“You’re tough,” I said. “If anyone can beat an illness you can.”
“Jack, I appreciate your good cheer,” Benny said contemplatively. “But we’re all going to die someday. I will soon.”
Tears began to swell in my eyes. Benny could see I was struggling.
“I’m not gone yet, though. We have some fishing to do. What about this weekend?”
“I would enjoy that,” I said.
As I stood to walk out of the office, Benny said, “Jack, one thing before you go.”
I stopped and turned to face him. “Yes, Benny, what is it?”
“I’m proud of you.”
I walked from his office. I walked into my office and shut the door.
I cried.
I called Tina that evening. I didn’t know what to say. I had not spoken to her since the board meeting.
“Hello, Jack,” Tina said. “I saw your bank’s name on the news in Philadelphia. Can you believe it? It sounds like you won,” she said.
“This wasn’t about winning. I’ve changed, Tina,” I said.
“Yeah, Jack, I can tell a lot from four hundred miles away,” she said. “Life has always been a game to you—congratulations, you won this round.”
Avoiding her sarcasm, I told her about Benny’s illness. “I wish you and the kids would come down here to meet him,” I said. “I would really appreciate it.”
“I don’t think we can swing that,” she said. “Joshua is driving me nuts. He won’t listen to me. Jessica is involved with some guy and talking about marriage. But you don’t know anything about those things, do you?”
“I love you, Tina” fell from my lips without any thought. I couldn’t contain the words anymore. I could count the number of times I had said “I love you” to Tina on one hand. Sadly, the count would include our wedding day.
“Why do you say that now?” Tina asked. “If you had said that years ago and meant it, we would not be where we’re at today.” I was familiar with her angry tone.
“That’s the point,” I said. “I had to go through this to change. It was fate. I am different. You’ve got to believe me. I’m not the Jack Oliver that you despise. I am the real me—the one you loved. Can you forgive me?” I asked through tears of regret.
“No!” she said with a definitive tone. “I’m not going to forgive you for what you have done to me and the kids. You didn’t appreciate what you had until you lost it. I don’t know why you’re saying this now. I’m sure you have a plan and are trying to trick me to get something. It won’t work! Suffer the consequences, Jack.”
She hung up.
Tina was right about the damage I’d done. But I had changed. All I wanted was a chance to show her. Just one chance, I thought wiping tears from my face. I was frustrated and angry. My best friend was dying. At the time when I should have been happiest, I was back where I had started—feeling depressed. “Why can’t she see that I’ve changed?” I asked myself as I walked out to my car. I had to get outside. It felt as though the walls were closing in and ready to crush me.
I left my condo in Salem and drove to the 19th Hole. I had heard it was a hangout for young professionals in the town. As I stepped inside, I felt more at ease. One drink can’t hurt, I thought to myself. I hadn’t touched alcohol since leaving Philadelphia. The server stepped over to my table. “What would you like to drink?” she asked as I had my head down in the menu pretending to look at the choices of hamburgers and sandwiches.
I paused and lifted my head to look around. I made my decision.
“I’ll have a glass of sweet tea,” I said.
“Would you like something from the bar?” she asked, almost seeing the challenge I was enduring at that moment.
“No, I’ll stick with the tea,” I said.
As the server walked away, I felt a sense of accomplishment greater than I had achieved in my entire career. No one was there to congratulate me or even understand. How could ordering a glass of tea be such a great accomplishment? But it was. Whether Tina realized it or not, I knew I was different—I had changed.
On Friday mornings it was a custom at Citizens Bank to have a Sweet Day—a day when each office would enjoy a breakfast celebration at the bank’s expense. Benny had created the events as a way to celebrate progress. While technically the get-togethers could be called a staff meeting, it was structured as a way for employees to relax together. As part of his ritual, Benny and I would visit a different office every Friday morning. Everyone enjoyed a visit from Benny. It was fun.
We were scheduled to visit the Shawsville office. I enjoyed the drive to the sleepy little community that was lodged between a mountain on one side and a river on the other. A railroad track split the village into two sides. Taking my time, I drove down US 11 avoiding the heavy traffic on Interstate 81. I was expecting to meet Benny at seven-thirty at the office. But when I arrived he wasn’t there. It wasn’t like him to miss one of the Friday breakfasts. At eight o’clock, I stepped into the small conference room to call the main office to see what happened. He’s probably stuck in traffic, or something has come up, I thought. But before I could finish dialing the number, one of the employees told me Ann was holding on line one for me.
“Jack, I’m sorry to call you like this, but Benny’s at Roanoke Memorial Hospital,” she said in a calm voice. “He’s not doing very well.”
“I’ll leave right now and be there in thirty minutes,” I said, knowingly shortening the drive by fifteen minutes.
“Drive safely,” she said hearing the urgency in my voice.
I drove like the old Jack, making my way onto Interstate 81 heading north toward Roanoke. As I whipped my way through a maze of tractor trailers, I couldn’t take my mind off the person who had played such a defining role in my life. We had planned on going fishing tomorro
w, and now Benny was struggling to live.
I arrived at the hospital in exactly thirty minutes and made my way to Benny’s room. Ann met me at the door and hugged me.
“Thank you for coming, Jack,” she said. “Benny is doing a little better. He had a terrible night.”
“I’m here anytime you need me,” I said, trying to control my emotions as we stepped inside the room.
Benny saw me entering the room and smiled a half-smile. “Well, Jack Oliver, what are you doing leaving the bank this early?” he said barely audible, but trying to laugh. He coughed and appeared to almost choke. I stepped forward beside Ann.
“I think it’s in good hands,” I said trying to smile, “much better hands than my own.”
“That’s right,” Benny said, squinting his eyes and slowly nodding his head to show his approval. “After I’m gone, don’t forget that it’s just a job and you have a life to live.”
“Rubbish,” Ann said. “You must both agree to not talk about work.”
“Deal,” I said.
“Deal,” Benny said smiling.
He held up his hand, and I took it in mine. Despite the obvious pain and his weakened state, his hand felt strong and vital. He was alive and was not giving up.
“Jack, I’m so sorry we can’t go fishing this weekend,” Benny said. “How about a rain check?”
“That sounds great,” I said. “You tell me when, and we’ll go. I’ll drive.” My driving had not quite adapted to the winding Virginia curves. Benny had been a passenger in my car on Virginia roads only once before.
“I tell you what, Jack,” Benny said. “I’ll drive—it’ll be safer.”
We all laughed. Benny started to cough again. As Ann reached over to lift him up higher on his pillow I saw the love the two shared. I immediately thought of Tina.
The nurse came into the room and asked if we could step out for a moment. Ann and I stepped toward the end of the hospital corridor.