The Red Light
Zeal without knowledge is not good;
a person who moves too quickly may go the wrong way.
—PROVERBS 19:2 NLT
LaVale came home from her boarding school for Christmas 1993, and of course I couldn’t restrain myself from launching into new sessions of worrying about her: Did she eat enough? Was she getting into trouble we didn’t know about? Was the school strict enough to keep her in line? So many thoughts, so many concerns. Two days before Christmas, Jonas and I took her out for coffee, just to talk, and somehow we ended up arguing with her about how she didn’t keep her room clean enough! How petty! All I wanted to do was hug her and tell her how much I loved her, but the only things that came out were more criticism and disagreement. The wedge between us seemed firmly driven in, and I couldn’t do anything but build more walls to separate us.
One night during that Christmas season, my extended family piled into three or four vans and traveled from hospital to hospital in Lancaster County, walking through the halls and singing Christmas carols. The sound of our voices ringing through the halls brought many people out from their rooms: visitors dressed in warm clothes spending the holidays at the bedside of a relative; patients in those wispy gowns pulling IVs along behind them; older folks smiling and wishing us a merry Christmas. For those few hours I could forget about my own problems and be thankful for our health, our family. I listened to the thirty or so voices that formed our choir and felt blessed to have such a supportive family.
An entry from my journal at the end of 1993:
This is nearly Christmas 1993. I will journal from now on;I only regret I didn’t start this five years ago when God started taking us one day at a time into the business called Auntie Anne’s. What a journey it has been! I look back and marvel at how God has led us and how faithful he has been to us. Right now, it seems like I’m struggling with which way to go with the business. Do I need to continue the way we are financially with Jonas and I as sole owners, or is God opening my mind to new ideas? Do we need to go outside our little circle of thinking? Would it be the right thing to do to have private investors become a part of our business? At one point I never would have even considered it . . .
Christmas came and went, and we entered the first few weeks of January. No snow—just a firm coldness that went straight to your bones. LaVale returned to school, Jonas to the busy task of running a counseling center, and me, well, I was back in the full swing of running a business. The first order of 1994 was getting some product shots of our pretzels so we could better develop our marketing materials, and we found a firm in Atlanta to help us through the process.
While I went to Atlanta feeling down, I returned ready for the new year, energized and excited. Two days after I got back, we did the ribbon cutting ceremony at our new office building, and it turned out to be a huge success. More than one hundred visitors toured our new facilities. We had Dr. Richard Dobbins, founder of EMERGE Ministries, say a few words and spend the night with us. Becky and Aaron joined us for dinner, and our small group laughed until our stomachs hurt! It was my first meaningful encounter with Dr. Dobbins—how could I ever have imagined the impact he would have on my life in the coming years?
Jonas and I spent hours talking with him about how he grew EMERGE, the paths he took to get where he was, and the difficulties he faced. While EMERGE is a very different organization from Auntie Anne’s, his wisdom on growing any type of organization proved valuable to us. And his personal counseling skills helped prepare me for the next few years, a time that would become the darkest in my life since Angie’s death.
But some happy moments still remained. On May 25 a Christian television program called and asked if I would make an appearance. On one hand, the invitation thrilled me, and I couldn’t wait; on the other hand, I knew they would be asking me about my past, the mistakes I made as well as the success I experienced, and that made me very nervous.
About two weeks after that invitation came an even more momentous occasion—LaVale graduated from high school! Nearly our entire extended family drove down to Harrisonburg, Virginia, to witness the event, an outpouring of support I knew LaVale appreciated. As I sat there watching LaVale accept her diploma, I was once again reminded of God’s faithfulness to us—through all of the dark memories and difficult times, she made it. I was sure that from then on things with LaVale would be much better, much easier, and maybe even the relationship between the two of us would improve.
During that summer Jonas and I went with Aaron and Becky on a five-and-a-half-week motorcycle trek to the Black Hills in South Dakota. Increasingly I found solace on those long journeys when it was just me and the road and mile after mile of thinking time. With gorgeous scenery passing us on both sides, and occasional stops to eat or rest, the trip gave me some much-needed time away from the business, which in turn gave me even more confidence in my management team and their ability to run the company when I wasn’t around. I thought more and more about selling off part of the company to investors. If that kind of a move gave me more time to be with my family and ride my cycle, then maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing.
A journal entry best describes the last night of our travels:
The last night on our trip we stayed at LaVale, Maryland—the town I named LaVale after eighteen years ago, almost to the day. It was nice to see the town, but I had so many memories flooding my mind. I had a rough night and I wonder why memories can be so powerful and affect me so negatively.
In any case, Jonas and I arrived home feeling refreshed and ready to move forward. LaVale lived with us at the house, and I enjoyed her company. I tried to fix good meals for her, and we often found ourselves talking over coffee. Our relationship grew closer, but I still held my breath, waiting for the next argument to smash our fragile peace.
I walked out of one of our management team meetings we held in the boardroom and returned to my office just down the hall. Yet another management team meeting from which I left feeling confused, frustrated, and somewhat discouraged. On one hand, the business continued to grow in amazing ways. By the beginning of 1994, we had opened 279 stores with another twenty to thirty locations in the pipeline and sold over thirty million pretzels with another twenty to thirty locations in the pipeline. Our franchisees seemed happy, the employees motivated, and Auntie Anne’s Soft Pretzels turned up in all of the major business publications as one of the best-run franchises in the country.
On the other hand, Auntie Anne’s was now made up of both family and non-family members, pressed for faster growth, and responding to a growing demand for locations. In 1994 we received more than ten requests per day from people wanting more information on opening an Auntie Anne’s, yet our resources could barely stretch in order to open fifty stores in a year. And because we grew so fast over such a large area, a need arose for franchise support at a regional level, which meant opening four or five regional offices. Finally, there were shopping malls desperate to open an Auntie Anne’s in areas where we did not currently have franchisees—if we wanted to open in those locations, we would have to open them as company-owned stores, something for which we did not have the cash.
We had only recently borrowed about $1.5 million, and the banks wouldn’t come through for any additional money. I began to feel very controlled by our growing business. It no longer felt like the company Jonas and I started simply to bless people—it felt very corporate, very professional (in a negative way), and began to lose some of its special qualities, at least in my eyes. Now, I know there was no other way—whenever a company grows as quickly as ours did, becoming corporate is an inevitable part of the process.
My suggestion to build “one . . . store . . . at . . . a . . . time,” wasn’t realistic, was too shortsighted, or didn’t make sense for a growing company such as ours. We all wanted to have a nationwide presence, and even international opportunities began presenting themselves. Finally I agreed that we should begin looking into other ways of raising the money.
Carl and I met a lot in those days, talking all the time. He began talking to me about another way we might be able to raise the money we needed: venture capital. Now, I knew nothing about venture capital and barely understood terms like investor and equity or shareholders. Carl tried to explain to me how the money would help us grow the company to a certain size, and that when we reached that size the venture capitalists would own a certain amount of the company while I owned another amount. I still didn’t find the whole situation very easy to understand, but I thought it sounded like a viable idea.
During those years many different people approached me with an interest in buying a portion of the company. Some were good people whom I’d known for a long time and trusted, even a few family members; others were complete strangers or representatives from other companies. But my main concern when even considering these options always came back to my desire to give in a huge way.
In those days our giving completely funded Jonas’s Family Resource and Counseling Center because we provided all of the counseling free of charge for anyone who came. I thought it would be nearly impossible to bring in other owners who felt as strongly as I did about giving. When we gave, we tried to be fiscally responsible and use the applicable tax breaks, but tax breaks have never been the main reason for my giving, and if I felt called to give to a certain cause and found out it wasn’t tax deductible, I still gave. But if we sold a portion of the company to someone without the same philosophy, then what? What would happen when someone else owned the company, too, and could veto my desire to give to this individual, this charity, or that organization? That was my greatest fear.
I finally agreed to go ahead with the venture capitalist idea and asked Carl to organize a deal for the funds we needed to expand.
“All I want is one thing,” I said. If we get to the very end of the deal and I’m not comfortable with it, then we walk away. I don’t know enough about this kind of thing to commit one hundred percent, so as long as I can say no at the end if I want to, then we can go for it.”
Carl agreed, and soon we found ourselves driving back and forth to New York City meeting with brokers and potential investors. I began praying earnestly and told God that I would not go ahead unless I got an obvious green light, a sign that venture capital was the way we should go.
The night before my first television appearance, I was extremely nervous. I couldn’t believe I was about to go on television and talk about my horrible past, the things I was so ashamed of, and the things that brought me so much sadness. But at some level I realized that my purpose in life might be to share my story in order to give others hope. Back in 1994 this realization just began taking hold of me, but I didn’t live it out. I wanted to live my life in total transparency, always revealing the truth and not hiding issues. This appearance was the beginning of a long road to the transparent life I live today.
When I got on air, I felt a calm descend on me, and things flowed very well. The host treated me with great respect and kindness. She asked about the death of Angie, my experience with Pastor, and my relationship with Jonas. We talked about how all of these things brought about Auntie Anne’s Soft Pretzels as well as Jonas’s counseling organization, the Family Resource and Counseling Center.
At the end of it, contrary to the embarrassment I thought I would experience, I actually felt relieved that my story was out there! In some ways it was a confessional to my family as well, an official time to talk to them about it—I had more than much-needed friends and family members in the audience, and I felt their support before, during, and after the taping. Before going on air, I spoke with our company’s marketing manager about the interview, and he strongly discouraged me from talking about my past. Something inside of me, however, knew the time had come to put my secret out in the open, and that televised interview became a moment of truth for me, a turning point in my life.
Another experience in 1994 led to my determination to confess my past and my feelings more openly, and it started under rather depressing circumstances: spending Thanksgiving on my own in Florida. Jonas had traveled to Buffalo to celebrate with the girls (my daughter LaWonna opened two Auntie Anne’s stores in New York, so LaVale moved in with her and helped run the business). I had some pressing things to attend to in Boynton Beach, Florida, and stayed in a condo owned by our friends.
While I was there, I spent a lot of time thinking about where the business was financially and wondering how we would come up with the additional needed funds. While I missed spending the holidays with my family, Florida in November can be a wonderful place: the temperature usually hovers around perfect, the evenings seem longer and more relaxing, and there’s nothing like enjoying a meal with a view of the ocean. The turning point of the trip came over one of these meals—I met up with a friend who just happened to be a therapist.
At one point during our time together, we began talking about my past and how I had dealt (or hadn’t dealt) with my life’s experiences. She is a kind woman, very intelligent, and at the time was a practicing psychologist.
“I am amazed you have made it this far without any sort of therapy,” she commented while we sat across from each other enjoying dinner.
“Really?” I said. “I’ve never really thought about counseling.”
“I would highly recommend you commit to one year of therapy,” she said. “I think there are probably a lot of issues that you still need to work through.”
For the next few days, I thought about her suggestion. Just the thought of going into therapy for an entire year sounded like a completely impossible proposition, and maybe even a waste of time. But talking to her, just for those few days we were together, started a healing process in me that I could tell would not continue unless I worked at it. I began to realize that after my experience with Pastor, I had huge issues with anyone I perceived as trying to control me—something that explained my reaction to my daughters, my husband, even work colleagues (including my brothers and sisters). I arrived back in Pennsylvania determined to focus on healing and restoration for my inner self.
Meanwhile, our quest for financing continued. When we first met with the broker who was going to work with us to find investors, I was very up front about our company’s mission to give, as well as the overall importance of financially supporting Jonas’s counseling center, and at first we weren’t sure if that could be honored in this kind of a venture. But eventually the firm representative came back to us and said, “You know, we have met with a lot of companies, but we have never met with a company like Auntie Anne’s where their sole mission is to give as much as possible. But we feel we have come up with a plan. We respect your desire to give and we appreciate that, so this is the plan.”
I trusted the information they presented me with, and I trusted Carl, so eventually I agreed to continue moving forward with the plan. As time went on, I became more and more serious about using venture capital. We continued meeting with a firm on a regular basis and seemed to be making progress in spite of the fact that the $3 million we required is a rather small amount when it comes to venture capitalists who are more accustomed to investing tens or hundreds of millions in a young company. Then one day while driving in my car, I suddenly felt as if God was speaking to me. Once again, not in an audible voice but just in my mind, giving me wisdom.
I found myself telling God, “I still don’t see a green light about this. I have to know, is this the right thing for us to do as a company? Is this the way you want me to go? I need a green light—I have to see an obvious sign.”
Suddenly in my mind I felt God saying, “It will be made very clear to you.”
That promise came to me two months before we were scheduled to sign the final papers. How could I have known that God needed me to go through this process in order to learn some very important lessons, both in business and about myself ?
The night before our final meeting, at which I was supposed to sign the final papers with the venture capitalists, I flew in from the Houston ICSC and arrived home after midnight, and still the light looked yellow. I had not received the green light from God that I was waiting for. Jonas and I were in bed, and I was reading, but I put the book down because I couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“Jonas,” I said, not sure if I was going to get mad or start crying, “I am supposed to sign these papers tomorrow giving away a portion of our company to these VCs, but God has been completely silent. I haven’t gotten a red or a green light yet! And he told me, very specifically that day while I was driving in the car, that he would give me a green light if I was supposed to go forward. I haven’t gotten anything, Jonas. Nothing! What am I supposed to do? It’s not clear to me, and tomorrow they are coming for my signature!”
I was on the verge of panic. But Jonas just looked at me with a confused look on his face, remained completely calm, and told me exactly what I needed to hear.
“Honey, it’s not tomorrow morning yet.”
But Jonas’s words, as wise as they were, didn’t comfort me. I thought to myself that maybe I had missed the green light, and I began going back over all of the events leading up to that day. Did God speak to me in circumstances I didn’t fully understand? Could the green light have been the fact that we got so far, that we actually found someone willing to give us the money in spite of my refusal to budge on giving? Not good enough, I thought to myself. He had told me it would be a clear yes or no. I fell asleep.
The next morning my stomach felt jittery as I prepared to go into the office. Finally they arrived, five or six men in very expensive suits looking out of place in our rather simple office building tucked away in the hills. The brokers were there with the gentlemen from the venture capital firm in New York, three or four of whom I’d never met before. I was the only woman. Eventually we made our way into the boardroom and talked the polite talk of businesspeople.
All the time I kept thinking, Why am I doing this? I don’t have a green light. I cannot sign those papers without a green light. But I was also thinking about how these businessmen had come all the way from New York. How could I disappoint them by not signing the papers? I just went through the motions, feeling completely dazed.
One of the new guys spoke up. It was time to get down to business.
“Well, it’s really nice to meet you, Anne, and obviously you’ve built a very successful business. We are tremendously excited about the opportunity of getting involved with your company.
“First we would like to clarify our position on going public: if you do not feel prepared to take the company public within the first few years of receiving our investment, we are not sure this is a deal that we would be interested in finalizing.”
My stomach dropped. I didn’t know how I felt about going public, and didn’t know enough about the process to have a firm opinion either way, but I knew I didn’t like how it sounded. But that wasn’t the end of it.
“Before we go on any further,” he continued, “I must admit there is one question that has been nagging me for quite some time, something I have to ask you.”
“Sure, go ahead,” I said, my stomach feeling rather sick.
He leaned forward, his elbows on the table, looked me square in the eyes, and asked me the question.
“I am just puzzled. Why do you think you have to give away such astronomical amounts of money?”
The blood drained from my face, and I could feel the room beginning to spin, but I returned his gaze.
“I am very disappointed that you would bring that up at this point in our negotiations,” I said, “because I felt I was very clear with your people up front that, although you don’t understand this, and I don’t expect you to understand it, we are a company created to give. I know you have made provisions for that in the agreement, but I am very disappointed that you have to ask that question, at this time, because I thought that was answered at the very beginning of our negotiations.”
“Oh no,” he said quickly, “we applaud that; we respect that. I just needed to ask you the question. I was just curious on a more personal level.”
The meeting continued, but I didn’t think I could go on. I began feeling like I was about to have a panic attack, feeling as though I had to get out of that room at any cost. I was feeling hot and finding it difficult to breathe. About fifteen minutes after he asked the question, I excused myself and made my way to the bathroom. At that point I wasn’t even thinking about the red or green light; I simply thought about the fact that if I didn’t get out of that room, I was going to make a fool of myself.
As I walked out of the room, one of the brokers, Tom, followed me—he had been such a huge encouragement throughout the entire capitalization process. He, along with his firm, stood to make thousands of dollars if everything went through, just for bringing the deal together.
“Anne,” he said, putting his hand on my shoulder, “you are not comfortable with this, are you?”
“No, I’m not,” I said, feeling embarrassed. “Do you think anyone else noticed?”
“No, but I feel I know you pretty well, and I can tell you weren’t happy with his comments on going public and your decision to give so much.”
“Tom, I can’t do this.”
“Well,” he said confidently, “then we won’t.”
“You mean we can just say the deal is off?”
“We’ll go through the rest of the process here today. Then Jim and I will meet with you and Jonas tomorrow morning at a restaurant for coffee. Does that sound okay?”
“Okay,” I said, and eventually I went back into the meeting room for the rest of the three- or four-hour meeting. I felt much better since Tom had assured me I didn’t have to sign on the dotted line that day.
Finally, at the end of the meeting, Tom thanked everyone for coming and said to the gentlemen, “Just give us a couple more days to talk things over, and we’ll be in touch.”
After the meeting, I felt embarrassed that they had come all the way from New York when I didn’t even think we were going to do the deal. I also felt bad for Carl and the team and dreaded telling them my decision, or what I thought my decision was going to be. The management team would have benefitted financially if the deal went through. I couldn’t take the pressure, so I just left and went home.
The next morning Jonas and I met with the brokers of our venture capitalist deal, Tom and Jim. It was early, and the sound of stirring spoons against the insides of coffee cups seemed the loudest sound. Tom eventually broached the subject, jumping right into the topic I wanted to talk about.
“Jonas and Anne, Jim and I have talked at length about your situation, this deal that’s lined up.”
Then he said something that made my eyes open wide as saucers.
“. . . And we don’t think you should do it.”
A weight lifted off of me in an instant, and I simply can’t explain it. That was the signal I had been waiting for, and it was most definitely red. What kind of signal could it be, when two men who stood to gain so much if the deal went through just sat there and told me they didn’t think I should do it? Energy pulsed through my body—I could have run a marathon, I felt so revitalized.
“God told me he would give me a clear signal,” I told those two brokers with tears in my eyes. “Thank you for your willingness to give me the answer.”
“This is not normal for us to do,” Tom said. “We’re not in the business of passing up on deals. But I know you well enough to know you are not comfortable, that you’re unsure about giving up ownership in your company, and I want to support you.”
We sat and talked for a while, and I felt like a new person. But as we stood up to go, the reality of the situation confronted me, and I turned to Tom again.
“Tom, what am I going to tell the management team?”
“They’re not going to be happy,” he said in a serious voice. “They’ve put a lot of time and effort into this project. They won’t like your decision.”
For a while I just sat at my desk, trying to gather the courage I needed to make my announcement. Then I went into Carl’s office and told him.
“I decided not to do the deal with the VCs. Please let the management team know,” I said.
That was it. I stood there for a few moments before walking out. That was all I said—if I said any more, I knew I would cry.
There are many difficult things about working with family, and of all the family members I worked with, I was probably the most difficult! Fortunately, through all of the trials and arguments and disagreements, all eight of us still remain great friends to this day and spend a lot of time together.
I will write more about working with family in a later chapter, but at that time in 1995, things became more difficult for me personally. It was time for some of my darkest secrets to be revealed.
