Frank McCarthy: A leader with spirit

I called over to Frank, “Let's call it a draw and get to your reception!” “No way!” he shouted. “I'm gonna beat your butt! Serve up the ball!”

One day I sat on a bench, enjoying the view over a beautiful lake, when a lovely butterfly fluttered by and landed on the adjoining seat. It was beautiful and the lake scene became more beautiful by its presence.

Suddenly the butterfly flew off, leaving me filled with sadness. Then I realized how lucky I was to be able to view the lake complemented by butterfly colors, even for a short time. I was happy for the fleeting experience.

It reminds me of the relatively short time we spend with family and friends who enrich our lives.

Frank McCarthy was my friend and president of the National Automobile Dealers Association. He died at age 66, too young for a man with his spirit and quality of leadership.

He received many industry awards and brought a whole new perspective to NADA. It was my fortune to work closely with the unique quality of leadership he brought to NADA. I was an elected a board member and served three terms with Frank.

His openness and sense of fairness permeated the NADA membership as well as his staff. He was an almost irreplaceable asset to every NADA dealer chairman during his career.

I have many dear and lasting memories of Frank. One in particular sums up his character. It happened one evening during an NADA Convention. Golf was the most popular diversion on the NADA Board of Directors' recreation agenda. But golf was not a fast enough sport for Frank and me. Tennis became our game.

We played singles and he beat me most of the time. But this one match was going my way. We had played three sets and were engaged in a prearranged rubber set to decide a winner. It was getting dark and both of us were late for a reception, which was a priority on Frank's agenda.

I called over to Frank, “Let's call it a draw and get to your reception!”

“No way!” he shouted. “I'm gonna beat your butt! Serve up the ball!”

We did eventually get to the reception, and he did win the final set mostly because I could hardly see the ball in the increasing darkness. If Frank McCarthy needed a seeing-eye dog he would find a way to win.

He left us too soon. We are, however, grateful for the quality time he gave us.