"I always want our auctions to be memorable, but this morning’s auction will be remembered by all of us for the wrong reasons. We will forever know that we were at the Park Entrance Auction when this terrible tragedy struck our country.” So I began my comments on that awful day, Tuesday, 09-11-01.

The morning had begun with great excitement and anticipation. My wife, Ellie, had kissed me goodbye at a little before 5AM on her to the Portland Jetport to fly to New York City for an important meeting that morning in Midtown Manhattan, "I’ll be home for dinner to celebrate your successful sale,” were her optimistic parting words. After good-byes to my four year old, Hannah, I picked-up my associate, Carmen, and was off to what promised to be, our sale of the year.

The Park Entrance Motel is an 8-acre site on the Atlantic Ocean in world famous Bar Harbor, Maine. With its grand 1300-foot private beach, 200 foot deep water pier and located just outside Acadia National Park, the property was much more than a motel. Having received inquiries from across the country, we had reason to anticipate an exciting morning.

At about 9:45, approximately 15 minutes from the property my cell phone rang and a local attorney, friend and sometimes prankster, who I was hopeful would be a strong prospective bidder, was asking if I intended to postpone the sale. As I queried him on his unusual strategy, he asked if I had been listening to the radio. I quickly turned on the news station and as he repeated the question I cut him short as I informed him my wife was somewhere in Manhattan and I’d see him at the property. At that point the only thing I wanted was to know that Ellie was safe. I knew her meeting wasn’t in the World Trade Center, but I didn’t know how close she might be. Frantically dialing and redialing, her cell phone finally produced her voicemail and in a probably too demanding tone I said, "Ellie, it’s time to check in.” I’ve never been terribly successful with technology and today was no different. Without a ring my cell phone showed " missed call…one message.” The voicemail was from Ellie and in a shaken voice she said that although she was surrounded in bedlam, she was safe.

It was a perfect day for an auction in Bar Harbor, the sun was shining, the tide was high, the ocean glistened. Every motel room door was open and every TV was on. We had 10 qualified bidders, from as far away as Key West, each with bank checks of $100,000. And everyone and their entourages were glued to the TVs. As I walked by the rooms I would hear things like, "the other Tower has fallen…another plane has hit the Pentagon…” Another two bidders thought the auction should be postponed. I was hearing,” it’s our Pearl Harbor…the world is coming to an end…if I buy it I’m not sure there will be any money to finance it.”

My father, who likes to come to many of our sales, had driven up that morning with my mother to work the crowd and watch the festivities. Seeing my quandary, he came up to me and said, "I know this is a difficult situation.” Not wanting to be disrespectful, I patiently listened, but you know I really wasn’t seeking fatherly advice at this moment. But he looked into my eyes and told me, "this is when we go to work. This is when we let them know they’re not going to push us around.” OK, so I was wrong. I did need fatherly advice. I felt my whole body react…YEAH!

I went and found my client, the president of the bank conducting the foreclosure and his attorney. Obviously the circumstances were forcing them to rethink our agreed upon strategy and they were looking for my counsel on whether to postpone. I pointed to my father, a man whom Tom Brokaw would describe as a member of the "greatest generation” and told them that he had just given me some backbone and now was the time to go to work. Besides, if we couldn’t reach their goal we could always shut it down. I felt their reaction as they nodded their heads. It was time to go to work.

Carmen, my father and I went to each of the bidders and in some instances literally grabbed them by the hand and escorted them away from the TV and down to the beach. As we began to assemble on the lawn looking out over the great Atlantic there must have been over 100 people; bidders, supporters, borrowers, attorneys, bankers, press and spectators. The mood was of tremendous apprehension. Even here, hundreds of miles from New York and Washington rumors were rampant.

After my opening words, for the second time that morning I pointed out my father, "a member of the ‘greatest generation’ has reminded me that it isn’t part of the American character to be pushed around. It’s time to go to work.” I could see and feel the crowd nod their heads in agreement. I continued, "please join in a moment of silence for this horrific tragedy which has struck our country and for those lost this morning that will never have the opportunity to stand where we stand.” I concluded, " God Bless America.”

Then we went to work. 17 minutes later the Park Entrance was sold for $5.3 million.

Ellie got home the next day via Amtrak. I met her at South Station amid rumors of bombs and terrorists and I can’t remember ever being so happy to see someone.

I’m not sure I know 100% of what happened in Bar Harbor on September 11th. I know we had a great property to sell. I know we had the right buyers. I know we wouldn’t have wanted to try and put that sale back together on the 12th or 13th. What I am confident of is that the American character was present and a strong participant in what we were able to accomplish.