After curiosity prompts auto executive Sean Cassidy to take an exit off the turnpike near Miller Falls, Connecticut, he is saddened to see that a rival dealership has closed, leaving the surrounding area eerily silent. As Sean wonders how much of life is dictated by fate, his thoughts drift back to the day he walked in the showroom of his family business-Cassidy Motors. It was 1974, the first time his father would put his trust in his inexperienced son. As Sean recalls his first days in the business, he remembers not only the good times, but also the struggles as he learns to adjust to his new role in charge of employees who are unreceptive to the brash management style of the owner's young son. As Sean and his wife settle into life as new parents, the following years are filled with excitement and emotion as family relationships are tested. Some thirty years later, the business is in jeopardy, and Sean risks everything in a desperate attempt to save it. Showroom is the poignant tale of one family's journey from success to disappointment as they share a passion for pleasing customers, building their business, and most importantly, loving each other.

Showroom

The Saga of a Family, a Car Business and the Seven Deadly SinsBy Sam Markley

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2011 Sam Markley
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4620-0768-4

Chapter One

The Way It Was

"They paved paradise and put up a parking lot" The Counting Crows

2009

Curiosity made me take Exit 89 off the turnpike. A fire was burning within my gut to see for myself what seemed not very long ago to be impossible. Ward Chevrolet, a 25-year rival that at times posed severe competitive problems, and at times provided a valuable ally in our joint war on corporate elimination, was gone. The signs that once illuminated the night were black; the showroom and service departments that once were the center of activity in a growing, busy car dealership were empty–the showroom windows uncluttered with only the outdated sale of a week gone by providing a glimpse into the suddenness of the closing. The streets of the downtown parking lot that had once been lined with new cars and trucks were vacant with weeds growing from the unoccupied asphalt. An eerie silence pervaded the air, a silence that punctuated the awful realization that Ward Chevrolet was, indeed, closed.

It wasn't long ago that Ward was a capable and viable combatant in our mutual war for customers. Geographically, there was too little distance between us. Anybody who was searching for a new car within a twenty-mile radius would go to both stores to compare prices, facilities, the color of the salesman's tie, the cleanliness of the rest rooms–whatever button needed to be pushed to provide the incentive to buy from one dealership versus the other. Many times these decisions left one of us upset. Most of the time what we considered the wrong decision by a customer to go to our competitor left us bitter with disappointment and a determination to get the "next one." These everyday disagreements and business defeats went on for twenty-five years, but somehow, through it all, Pete Ward and I became friends. Our battle was a border war, not a personal one. There were no vendettas. Our families got to know each other and our wives became close. Somewhere along our very similar paths, we had found a common ground. I respected Pete Ward a great deal. He could be pompous and arrogant, sometimes too filled with himself, but he was a solid family guy and a good businessman. We enjoyed our times together—an occasional lunch, a mutual road trip to a dealer conference, or a meeting at one of our sons' games also competing against each other at two rival area high schools. Someone once said, "you should keep your enemies close." That wasn't necessary in our case. I always thought it was more of a pleasure to be in competition with Pete Ward because I knew that no matter what went on in the sales situation, the customer would be treated honorably. We weren't at odds in integrity. For that virtue, we shared a strong commitment. The recession and the mismanagement of corporate America left Pete with little choice but to abandon his investment and move on to more meaningful pursuits. I wished him well.

When I made the decision to sell my dealership due to family problems and stress-related health issues three years ago, it was Pete Ward who called to see if everything was all right. Now our dealerships were both deleted from the business directory of the local scene. Some critics, unknowing of the good things the two of us did for our respective communities, probably relished the fact that we were no longer in business, but as the words from a popular song said it best, "... you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone."

The road off of exit 89 on the turnpike led to the downtown area of Miller Falls, Connecticut. There were once restaurants and diners and banks and a car dealership that occupied the better part of the center of town. Those were the good old days.

Chapter Two

As Time Goes By

"Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be ..." Robert Browning

I can remember clearly the first day I walked into the showroom at Cassidy Motors. Everything was new and shiny, ready for the grand opening. It was 1974. I was brimming with confidence and enthusiasm for my new position, but, at the same time, I was harboring doubts about whether this chapter of my life would have a successful outcome. I wondered if I had made the right decision to give up my life in Boston to undertake this new adventure. Time would tell, but I was going to give it my best shot. I owed that much to my father for giving me this opportunity and for entrusting me with the responsibility of bringing success to the new dealership. This was a huge gamble for my father. He was putting his faith in the hands of his inexperienced younger son. I vowed to make his decision one that he would not regret. The road would be long and the path would be sometimes littered with obstacles, but I was comfortable in knowing that I had made my choice and I believed I was where I was suppose to be.

* * *

Spring 2006

How much of life can be attributed to fate? How much of the outcome of our lives do we really have a say in? Is free will a tool we are given to influence the direction our lives take, or are the twists and turns of fortune, the unexplained luck of the draw, or the unfortunate bounce of the ball totally out of our control?

There are many unanswered questions as to why our lives turn out the way they do. Certainly, we have a modicum of control over the end product, but, for the most part, life goes speeding by without many chances to influence the direction we are headed. It often appears that we are just along for the ride. Is this a controversial view? Probably, but this is what I truly believe. For instance, I believe that I was meant to go through life with Katie at my side. As many times as I have found ways to screw up that relationship, she has brought it back together. Had I married someone with the same personality flaws as I have, the relationship wouldn't work. She doesn't have the vindictive gene, or the wandering eye disease, or the irrational temper syndrome. She doesn't possess the big ego, or the competitive fervor, or the unforgiving persona. I believe relationships fail when the two parties possess irreconcilable similarities. There has to be an ebb and flow, a Yin and a Yang, a Punch and a Judy. How many times has the 'couple that has everything' ended up in divorce court?

Katie can look at a pile of weeds and see roses. She can bring an inner light to a darkened room. Her patience astounds me, not only with our kids and our grandchildren, but with people she deals with every day who deserve a lot worse, and with me, her irrational, argumentative, grumpy old husband. Any discussion of the outcome of my life–where I worked, who I influenced both positively and negatively, how I related to friends, relatives, customers, perceived enemies, pets, etc.,–has to include the influence Katie had in mitigating my combative nature. As the song goes, she's the "wind beneath my wings." Without Katie, I very well could have been an Irish drunk or a character out of a John Updike novel, sitting in a bar living my life over and over again in a dream world of exaggerated athletic prowess.

I owe my life to Katie. So when she voiced her concern over the direction our lives...