Soon a simple but successful strategy evolved: Open a restaurant, get it running properly, then borrow the money for another. "Mr. Noell, he loved borrowing money from banks," Mayo says with a laugh. Sometimes, in order to keep the growth going, they talked landowners into extending second mortgages on property.
"We never had a goal as to how many units we wanted," Mayo notes. "I'm not against goals -- I think they're great -- but they're somewhat confining."
Because the Hardee's corporation itself was so young, BNEI was obliged, as well as inclined, to do much of its "earnin' and learnin" on its own. That and the close personal ties between the two companies' founders made for a relationship with more give-and-take than most franchisor-franchisee arrangements. The two companies, in effect, grew up together, relying on each other for support and innovation. (Mayo points with pride, for example, to a biscuit breakfast program introduced by BNEI and eventually adopted by Hardee's.) And both have secured their niche in the marketplace. "We've shared in the pitfalls and in the rewards," notes Bunn, an observation with which Nick concurs.
"It's been a two-way street," he says, "and it's been good for both of us."
"Good," no doubt, is an understatement. As Boddie-Noell Enterprises grew, it seemed to become virtually a legend around Rocky Mount -- a company with a reputation for excellence that extended to its founders, its products, and the quality of its management. "They're wonderful people who've earned everything they've got," is the tribute of Jim Gardner's brother Gerry, head of one of Boddie-Noell's competitors.
In part, the Boddie brothers' success is a tribute to personal site selection, unrelenting attention to detail, and a paternal commitment to their employees -- in short, to the hands-on management style that almost invariably characterizes the best entrepreneurial companies. Even now, when every corporate function from paper-clip ordering to restaurant construction seems to have its own department at BNEI's new headquarters in Rocky Mount, the brothers insist on reviewing each prospective restaurant site themselves. "If you expect your people to do a good job, you've got to give them a good place to start," says Mayo. The company's real-estate department employs all of the standard criteria (population, traffic flow, competition) to pinpoint possibilities, but the Boddies don't sleep easy, or sign anything, until they've walked the land themselves.
Their approach may be a legacy of farming, or it may be simply an inbred expertise compounded of intuition, experience, and intelligence. But whatever it is, it works better than any formula. A consulting company once tried to sell them on computer-based site selection: The Boddies always open to new possibilities, provided the company with figures on a location. The consultants analyzed the numbers, then rejected them -- the prospective site, they said, wouldn't work. The Boddies went back to their own way of doing things, since the site in question was one on which they had already built a successful Hardee's. In 22 years, they have never had to close a single restaurant.
In the same instinctive way, the Boddies know much about the people who work for them, often considering them almost as extended family. Sitting in Carleton House, a pile of chicken bones before him, Mayo casually recounts his waitress's family history ("her husband used to work for us, but he died a few years ago. . . .), and chats with her when she stops at his table. At the same time, when a dish arrives that isn't quite right, he dispatches it back to the kitchen with precise instructions. It is at once a personal style and a personnel policy that breeds respect and a desire to please.
"With most corporations," observes Rick Sheen, one of two BNEI pilots, "you fly to a city, and management heads downtown to a convention at the Ritz, while you hole up at the airport Hilton. At Boddie-Noell, you stay at the Ritz, too." The result? "It's the difference between working for an employer and working for a friend," he explains. "If Nick or Mayo were to call me up at 3 a.m. and ask me to fly them somewhere, I'd be honored to do so." Not everyone, of course, sees the bright side of this approach to management. Mayo recalls a day not too many years ago when he was driving through a small town and made an unexpected call at a BNEI Hardee's. For a couple of hours he sat in his car, watching what was going on inside the restaurant. There was litter on the floor, he noticed. Customer lines were backing up. A manager was flirting with the help.
As the restaurant was closing, Mayo introduced himself and invited the manager back to his motel for a drink. "Well," he told his guest after a bit, "I'm afraid you're going to have to go." The astounded manager, a glass of whiskey in his hand, looked at him in disbelief.
"I explained that it was nothing personal," Mayo continues, "that I was willing to drink with him, but that I wasn't going to do business with him."
In the Boddies' minds, the point is fundamental. "You can build stores all day, but if you don't have good people to put in them . . ." Mayo leaves the obvious unspoken. BNEI now employs about 8,000 people, and operates two separate training schools, one at Nash County Technical College, and another at the Durham Technical Institute in Durham, N.C. It regards its training program as superior to Hardee's, and others apparently agree: When Guardian Corp. (see sidebar, above) was gearing up for burgers, it put its management trainees through the BNEI program, and now describes its style as "the best of BNEI and Hardee's." Remarkably, in an industry known for high turnover, BNEI has plenty of 20-year veterans, as well as a few members of management who came up through the ranks. Richard Jenkins, for example, senior vice-president of operations, began his career with BNEI as a 16-year-old sweeping up in one of the company's restaurants.
