Fourteen: My Life Would Never Be the Same
A White House limousine drove my friends and I to the airport for our flight home. Someone must have spoken to the flight attendant, because when we boarded my seat had been upgraded to first class. I abandoned my friends to steerage. Once the plane reached elevation, the pilot came over the intercom to announce that the winner of the SBA’s National Small Business Person of the Year was on board. Thank God, I was at the front of the plane and no one could see me. The pilot shared some information new to me—that this award had been given out for thirty-three years. I was the third woman to win and the first Utahn. It seemed like everyone on board clapped and cheered as the plane dipped and twirled.
When we deboarded, the concourse was crowded with people throwing confetti and blowing noise makers. Many were friends and family but there were a lot of people I didn’t know, people who just wanted to be supportive. The next morning was extraordinary. When I got to work, the parking lot—all eighteen stalls—was full and so was the lot at the 7-Eleven. The manager didn’t seem to mind. He threw me a kiss. Reporters from the Deseret News and The Salt Lake Tribune were there with paper and pen and SLR cameras. Cards and flowers arrived all morning. That day, people came into the greenhouses who had never heard of or been to Cactus & Tropicals before. My life would never be the same.
The Governor of Utah, Michael Leavitt, declared May 19, 1994, Cactus & Tropicals Day! He held a luncheon in our honor at the Red Lion Hotel. His speech was titled “Small Business: The Engine that Drives the Economy.” After his speech, he invited my guests (all employees) and me to the podium. He gave us a framed, genuine Declaration; a certificate with scrolly letters, red and blue ribbons, and gilded edges, proclaiming May 19th Cactus & Tropicals Day. It was full of whereases and therefores, but there were no stipulations, permits, variances, abstracts of findings, or interest rates.
I was pleased Governor Leavitt took my award to heart. He invited me and several other business people to meet with him privately in the governor’s boardroom at the Utah State Capitol. In his letter of invitation, he gave me the opportunity of a lifetime, asking me to “come prepared to share what he could do as the state’s chief executive to make the process more ‘user friendly’ and what I saw as our biggest challenges.” This was my opportunity to personally tell the Governor about the difficulties women face in getting bank loans, and also about some of the obstacles business start-ups run into around regulations and fees.
I gave him a quick history of Cactus & Tropicals, concluding with a description of the new commercial plant sales and service industry that was sweeping the country and creating vast opportunities for jobs. I explained that people hired to do the work are called “plant technicians,” and how plants had become so popular, there was hardly a home or business without them. New plants were constantly being introduced and new gadgets to take care of plants were invented regularly. The market was ever expanding. A plant service is the kind of business that can be a one-person show or provide work for a cast of thousands. Some large companies even hire their own in-house technician. We had been doing this work for six years, and serviced plants in several hundred buildings from Ogden to St. George, Utah. It had become an important revenue source for us and our clearest path to future growth.
I told the Governor the greatest assist for my industry would be if the Salt Lake Community College or equivalent would offer a degree in Ornamental Horticulture. A degree would be extremely helpful in building a new profession—one with knowledge and skills to be gained that offered a true sense of pride in the work. The governor said he would look into it. He did, and a horticultural program was created. Currently, Salt Lake Community College offers an Associate of Applied Science (AAS) in Ornamental Horticulture.
It was only a few weeks later that I got a call from the Department of Treasury in Washington D. C. The Secretary, Lloyd Bentsen (previously a Senator from Texas and once a candidate for president) was touring the Intermountain West, speaking on behalf of President Clinton’s Universal Health Care plan. The aide asked if Cactus & Tropicals would like to host an event for Secretary Bentsen. Yes, we would!
We invited a small crowd of business people, members of the Utah Association of Women Business Owners, other neighborhood-based businesses, and many of our customers. We created an “event space” by using trees, shrubs, and flowering plants from the nursery to surround a seating area. A row of pink flowering Mandevilla made a backdrop for the podium.
In a startling twist of time, Secretary Bentsen and his secret service entourage showed up a full hour early! The agents, wearing dark suits and dark glasses, whispered into their watches and immediately surrounded the property. They were reminiscent of the Blues Brothers; one of them even looked like John Belushi. Because they were so early, Secretary Bentsen asked if he and two of his aides might wait in my office.
What? Lord, help me. NO. Absolutely, noooo. I mean, Nooooo! I screamed silently. My desk was cluttered with papers, bottles of fertilizer, soil samples, seed packages, shovels, rakes, charcoal briquettes, and fire starter. If anyone spilled water on the carpet, seeds would sprout. What could I do? I had to be gracious and hospitable.
When the crowd gathered, Secretary Bentsen came out of the office and took the podium. He got down to the business of describing President Clinton’s health care plan and the critical need for it. Most people nodded their heads in agreement. Insurance was then, as now, a big problem for many, many businesses. To my surprise, he told me privately that he didn’t believe in universal health care.
As it turned out, Secretary Bentsen wanted to talk about Mandevilla vines. He told the crowd that he loved their beautiful flowers but hated that they attracted whiteflies. He told us about his personal journey in discovering the absolute necessity for fertilizer, especially nitrogen. He discussed the hot, humid environment of southern Texas and Utah’s hot, dry climate and the different challenges we faced in growing things. It was kind of like he was having an Okra vs. Utah Corn debate with himself. Then he suddenly asked for a tour of the greenhouses. Everyone jumped to their feet. The Blues Brothers came running. Bentsen headed for a door and we chased after him.
My father was there, and he was dying to talk to Secretary Bentsen about World War II. Dad was certain they had something in common, a shared platoon or infantry division. He went towards Bentsen as fast as he could, but the Blues Brothers moved faster and put up a strong defensive line. Dad could see he’d never get closer than twenty feet, so he called out, “Secretary Bentsen, do you remember Twiggy Parker?” I guess Bentsen didn’t remember Twiggy or he would have stopped and turned, but he didn’t. He just kept walking. The Tribune captured this drama with a front-page photo, though they didn’t know it. There’s Secretary Bentsen and me at the front, then a phalanx of blue suits, then Harry Miller, bringing up the rearguard, still living the war.