Thirteen: SBA Small Business Person of the Year

Early in 1994, Richard Gray, my banker, called me.

“Lorraine, I’m nominating you for the SBA’s State Small Business Person of the Year.”

I’d never heard of such a thing and I didn’t believe him.

“What? No,” I said.

“Yes,” he insisted.

I don’t remember getting a phone call from Richard or anyone at the SBA telling me I’d won, but I’ll never forget the Awards Ceremony. It was held in the Gore Auditorium on the Westminster College campus. When the program was about to begin and people were leaving the lobby to take their seats, I was still at the window, waiting for my parents. Where were they? I’d spoken to my mother just a few hours earlier, and I knew they were coming. Then I saw an ambulance go by, lights flashing. I had a sinking feeling.

My parents were running late and the parking space they’d found was a fair distance away. Hurrying, my mother had tripped on uneven sidewalk and fallen, shattering her kneecap. A campus police officer came into the auditorium—I was right there waiting for him. The people in charge of the program graciously reversed the schedule and put my piece at the beginning so I could dash to the hospital. That’s what I remember.

A few weeks earlier, all the nominees had been told that during the first week of May, the National Small Business Administration celebrates Small Business Week in Washington D.C. All the state winners are invited. The week culminates in the President (if he isn’t in the situation room) awarding one state winner the National Small Business Person of the Year Award. I persuaded two of my high school friends to come with me, and Mike, a young man who was my liaison with the SBA, invited them to tag along to every event.

During our week in Washington, the state winners and their guests were treated like royalty. Our first speaker was the Director of the SBA, Erskine Bowles. Although he had an MBA from Columbia University, was an investment banker with Morgan Stanley, and was a renowned financial analyst, it was easy to see he loved small business, almost with a fatherly affection. He was completely engaged with all of the state winners and all the events. We were given a tour of the Treasury Building and heard inspiring talks from both the Secretary of the Treasury and the Secretary of Commerce. At a luncheon, Leon Panetta, President Clinton’s Chief of Staff, talked to us about the importance of small business in creating jobs and building community. He told us to pat ourselves on the back, we were the engine that drives the economy.

We were given a tour of the White House and many of the Washington monuments. Karen Shepherd, Utah’s elected member of the House of Representatives at the time, graciously took me under her wing and gave me a tour of the Capitol. She took me along to press conferences and invited me to lunch in the private House Members Dining Room. My friends and I had fun on our own, too, exploring other museums and monuments, and with the luck of timing, we watched the Changing of the Guard at Arlington Cemetery.

The award winners were announced at the final event. It was held at the Eisenhower Executive Office Building next to the West Wing in one of the small auditoriums with blue curtains. The evening before, I’d received a call from Mike, the SBA liaison, that was mostly small talk: “Are you enjoying yourselves? Where have you been?” and so forth. The last thing he said was, “Don’t be late tomorrow. Be sure you look your best.” When I hung up and told my friends what he’d said, their eyes lit up like stars.

“You’re going to win! You’re going to win!” they chanted.

“That was a courtesy call,” I rebutted. “He’s just reminding everyone.”

When we were getting ready the next morning, my friend Suzi (who had been my bookkeeper for a few years) searched her purse for a small jewelry box. She found a pair of clip-on pearl earrings, big fat ones, and clamped them on my ears. She rearranged my blouse cuffs to fold back over my black jacket sleeves. I guess I looked my best. I have no idea. Clothes have never been important to me.

Being in the room with any United States President, regardless of political party, is awe-inspiring. All the state winners were ready and waiting with crossed fingers for President Clinton to show up, and not a stand-in. During our few days together, I had gotten to know some of the other winners. Each one had an amazing story of ingenuity and grit. From spending time with them, I could see that business is a skill that can be learned but it’s an art, too. Any one of the state winners was qualified to be the national winner.

The anticipation in the room was palpable. The President kept us on pins and needles while he gave a very long speech on his work to reduce the federal deficit while increasing the defense budget. Of course he spoke about the importance of small business in the American economy too, and reiterated that we were the engine… Mostly, he talked about his plan for universal health care. He explained that big business employs enough people to receive a deep discount in health care costs while small business does not. It was a problem he wanted to address. At this point, I employed fifteen people. As hard as I might put the pedal to the metal, there was no way my engine could afford health insurance for everyone. My engine wasn’t sputtering, but it wasn’t driving in the fast lane, either.

After his extended speech, President Clinton paused for effect. Then he announced the third-place winner, an orchid grower from Hawaii. The grower put a beautiful lei of purple orchid flowers around the President’s neck. As soon as their picture was snapped, Clinton took it off, citing allergies. (Somehow, I ended up wearing it home.) The second-place winners were two gentlemen who were partners in creating the New England Culinary Institute, now listed as the fifth best cooking school in America. They presented the President with a tall, white chef’s hat which he did not put on.

President Clinton said to the three winners, “You all go stand over there and we’ll do this.” He pointed to a place a few feet away. Then he looked around the room and said, “Our winner is Lorraine Miller from Salt Lake City, Utah, the President of Cactus & Tropicals.

“Come on up here,” he told me. “Stand by me while I talk about you.”

Despite the certainty of my friends, I was dumbfounded—and, I was empty-handed. Not in my wildest imaginings had I thought I could win. Impossible. Even so, the President described how Cactus & Tropicals had grown with the assistance of charcoal briquets, good employees, and increasing sales. He shook my hand and said, “I’m so proud of you.” I felt like I was eight years old.