The Anna Station
This article was originally published on LinkedIn
The Anna Station
While looking for photos of Dad’s old bar and grill, the Anna Station, for a potential future post at The Stillhouse Blog, my mom came across an old newspaper clipping from 1982.
The article featured my dad shortly after he purchased the former Frenchie’s bar in Anna, Ohio. It was exactly what you would expect from a small-town newspaper. Dad was a well-known character in the area, and the article played on that a little.
Then I came to this quote and had to laugh.
“I can’t work for other people. I may tell you where to go. When I heard it was for sale, I decided to buy it.”
Anyone who knew my dad would probably add, “Sounds about right. He’d have no trouble telling you where to go.”
By the time I found the article, Against the Grain was already written. In one chapter, I describe my dad this way:
“If ever there was a human being that had no business working for another human being, it was Dad.”
I had forgotten the newspaper article entirely, but he and I had reached exactly the same conclusion more than forty years apart.
Before the Anna Station, he owned a Sunoco station. He always seemed to have another idea, another opportunity, or another project. Owning a business, doing odd jobs, and flipping things he’d find at auctions or junk piles fit his personality. He enjoyed making decisions, solving problems, and accepting responsibility for the results.
Like Dad, most entrepreneurs I know share a common characteristic. They want ownership.
Ownership isn’t limited to equity. It is a way of approaching work. Owners see opportunities where others see obstacles. They assume responsibility before anyone assigns it. They make decisions with the understanding that they will also live with the consequences.
I always found myself drawn toward creating things. New products. New business units. New partnerships. New ways of solving old problems. Creating something that didn’t exist yesterday has always been one of the most satisfying parts of my career.
The entrepreneurs I’ve met over the years share that same instinct. They enjoy creating more than maintaining. They ask why something works the way it does. They look for a better approach. They accept that improvement usually requires effort, risk, and accountability.
My dad probably never thought of himself as an entrepreneur. I doubt he ever used that word. He owned businesses because owning businesses made sense to him. Looking back, I think many founders would describe themselves the same way. They weren’t pursuing a title. They wanted the opportunity to shape the outcome.
That perspective also changes how success is measured.
Business owners certainly care about profitability. They have to. Revenue pays the bills, serves customers, and keeps the doors open. At the same time, most entrepreneurs I know also care deeply about building something they can be proud of. They enjoy watching customers return. They enjoy earning a reputation. They enjoy seeing an idea become a business and a business become part of a community.
The Anna Station was one example of that. It wasn’t a large business and didn’t need to be. It served its customers, became part of the town, and reflected the owner’s personality.
Finding that newspaper article reminded me that some lessons don’t become clear until decades later.
When I wrote Against the Grain, I wasn’t thinking about an old newspaper clipping. I was writing about the people who shaped the way I think about leadership, entrepreneurship, and ownership. When Mom handed me the article, I discovered that Dad had summarized the same lesson in a single sentence back in 1982.
“I can’t work for other people.”
When some people read that sentence, they will hear stubbornness, and they’re not wrong. But I hear something else.
I hear someone who understood himself.