Entering the Andersons’ compound is daunting. The Andersons are a pretty big name around here and people sometimes intone it in hushed voices.

Moreover, the word “compound” sounds private and familial. Am I an intruder? Do I have any more right to be here than in the Kennedy Compound?

You drive past the old cow barns that are now apartments and then wind around, trying to figure out the system. Each family's home is indicated by an arrow-like sign — like a scout camp. And then you notice how peaceful and beautiful it is out there. An oasis in the middle of urban and suburban sprawl. This was the old Anderson farm — the farm Harold Anderson and his boys worked before their company finally took off.

Then I come to Dick and Fran Anderson's home — home of the current patriarch and matriarch of the clan — and park in the circular driveway. It’s not a mansion or a showplace, inside or out, but a comfortable and tasteful home. Just what you would expect of them.

Dick greets me at the door and notes that I am right on time. Fran has prepared a lunch of soup and sandwiches, which we take in a four-season sun room overlooking a lake. Dozens of birds dart in and out of many feeders, and snow is starting to fall at an accelerated pace on that lake, which Dick tells me was a family project. He and his sons made it with their own hands. After work and school and in the summers. It took four years. The boys were young teens when they began it. Dick bought them used backhoes and bulldozers and, Dick adds, “Sometimes we got ourselves into trouble and had to figure a way out.”

It’s beautiful. Even in winter.

Later, Dick and his sons built patios, gazebos, and the like. How many CEO do such things? But Dick Anderson is not your ordinary CEO, or even, primarily a CEO. He’s a farmer. A family man. A Catholic Christian. And, perhaps above all else, a builder, in every sense of that word — just as his father, the legendary Harold Anderson was.

Dick also built a tree house for his kids, years back. It became somewhat famous for its elaborateness. It had a kitchen, for one thing. The family ate there, and watched the Swan Creek flow, every Sunday night when the kids were young.

Since he retired a few years ago — he is now 85 — Dick has upgraded his woodworking workshop/​studio. He's always made furniture. But he decided to get really serious when he retired. And when he had cancer a few years back, he increased his efforts even more — “to take my mind off myself.”

It worked. He is cancer free today, and he’s accepted a commission to make the altar and other furniture for the sanctuary of the chapel at the new headquarters of the Notre Dame sisters.

Master builders

The Andersons build things — structures, enterprises, relationships, and they are capitalists. But they build in a certain way and conduct their business in a certain way — they have their own code. That code is grounded, as crazy as this may sound, in the Kantian imperative — the golden rule. And in family and community.

The Andersons Inc. is an agribusiness established in 1947, by Harold Anderson, Dick’s father, and the original patriarch. It began as “Andersons Truck Terminal,” with the motto “farmer’s first.” Harold Anderson’s idea was that he could move grain faster to market and get better prices for farmers by getting it, via rail, to water. The plan failed twice. The third time, his organizational scheme was more complete and it was a better moment. This time, Harold also based the whole thing on a family partnership — himself, his wife, and his five sons.

The Andersons today is organized into separate business groups: grain, ethanol, turf and specialty, plant nutrient, retail, and rail. But its heart is still grain storage and transport in Ohio, Indiana, Michigan, Nebraska, and Illinois.

The Andersons went public in 1996 and is now a $5 billion company.

But listen to the precepts it was built on. This is the company mission statement. Dick recited it to me word for word, and by heart:

“We firmly believe that our company is a powerful vehicle through which we channel our time, talent, and energy in pursuit of the fundamental goal of serving God by serving others.

“Through our collective action, we greatly magnify the impact of our individual efforts to:

“Provide extraordinary service to our customers; help each other improve; support our communities; increase the value of our company.”

Imagine a corporation whose business plan is based on helping others.

Dick told me that when the company was really beginning to boom in the 1950s, his father was on the radio every day for about 10 minutes. About six radio stations in the region, he said. Half the time was spent talking about grain prices and half on philosophy and religion. “We were celebrities.”

Where did the religious and philosophical material come from? Well, Harold was a devout Presbyterian — the first layman to preach at Collingwood Presbyterian Church. But a lot came out of Harold’s own head and heart. He had two key tenets: “work is a blessing” and “make a positive out of a negative.”

Harold's beloved wife Margaret was a Roman Catholic, and their seven children were all raised as Catholics.

Character and service

A few years ago, for a roast, former Blade editor Tom Walton wrote this about Dick:

“Can there be any civic endeavor that has not felt the impact of his philanthropy?

“The symphony. The ballet. The zoo. The art museum. The Boy Scouts. The YMCA. Habitat for Humanity. United Way. The library. Central Catholic High School. Lourdes University. The University of Toledo. On it goes. You name it, Dick Anderson has shared his time, his talent, and his treasure.”

Mr. Walton, and others, are the first to say that Fran was a full partner in all these endeavors. She also had her own causes: Mobile Meals, Lucas County Children Services, and St. Luke’s Hospital, to name a few. And she has been intimately involved in the company from the start. She and Dick’s sister Carol were in charge of the care and feeding of the crews on the Big Pour — when the Andersons did what had never been done. They built 20 grain elevators simultaneously, working round the clock, day and night, for 11 days. They hired 225 men to do it. The Big Pour was covered by the national media. It was a sensation — a sort of reality show of its day.

When I asked Dick what he is proudest of in his life, he was quick to answer. It was not that he and his brothers took the company to levels even his visionary father never imagined. It was his marriage to Fran (61 years) and their children — the family. “Every one of them [their six grown children] is a great human being with a solid marriage,” he said.

Again, not “the bottom line.” But character and service.

Founding father

Of Harold and Margaret’s five sons, four were in World War II and three were fighter pilots. Dick, the youngest, did not serve until the Korea era. So he and his father worked the farm together during the war years — 365 days a year. Dairy cows don’t take time off. Dick was up every morning at 2 a.m. — and to the cows by 2:30. Every day, every winter.

That’s when he really got to know his father:

“Dickie, my boy, you gotta learn how to make a negative into a positive.”

“Dickie, my boy, some day you are going to open a big general store.”

“Work is a blessing … it takes the focus off the self.”

“We are here to serve.”

“Why argue about stupid stuff ? Let’s get to work.”

He was a natural theologan, epigramist, and leader.

In that era, a religiously split family was rare. And it did gnaw at Harold and Margaret. Harold's view was that Jesus had shown the way. Dogma was trivial detail.

One day, unloading a truck, Dick heard his father say to a business associate: “I don’t know what I’d do without that kid.” It made his day, made him work even harder, made him love his father even more. And it taught him a lesson about motivating people.

Harold Anderson was a true American original. A force of nature. Not unlike Henry Ford or Walt Disney. A visionary in business. And like many great men, he had his demons.

Harold was ahead of his time on many fronts. But his failures were epic, public, and they stung. He also suffered from what today we would call manic depression, or bipolar disease. And after the business failed, on one occasion, he drove his car into a tree and wound up in a psychiatric hospital. Several in fact, over a period of 13 months. And he was treated badly in one: “Ah get outta here,” said a ward. “You’re just crazy.”

Harold was cured by an exceptional psychiatrist from Cleveland — Dr. Louis J. Karnosh. Dr. Karnosh was a scholar. He taught at Case Western Reserve and published scientific papers. He was a man of letters and even an amateur painter. He was also a deeply empathic healer.

Dr. Karnosh’s treatment? Vocational therapy. Make things. You have something to show for your day; you feel productive, which builds self-worth; and physical work takes you out of yourself.

This spoke to Harold and rebooted him. He began to form a personal philosophy that intertwined with his business philosophy.

Do something.

Do something for others.

Work is a blessing.

These are dictums Dick and Fran have lived by, and handed down to their children and 20-some grandchildren.

The other thing that snapped Harold Anderson out of his depression was the death of his daughter Sue.

She was electrocuted in a freak household accident.

The tragedy stunned the family and the father had to grab hold of the reins again.

From this, Dick learned the power of both responsibility and compassion.

He said he never got over the death of his sister Sue.

He told me work helped him to heal. Just as it helped his father.

Especially the many physical projects around home and compound.

Make something. Do something with your hands. It will take you out of yourself. Dick tells me one of the younger Andersons is employing the same strategy today with a young person she is mentoring.

The matriarch

It was after the war that Harold started the company up again. This time it will be the family that does it, he said.

Dick said his brother Tom was the real leader of his generation. But his father, his mother, the brothers, his sister, and their wives all contributed, and grew the company together.

And after the death of Sue, religion no longer seemed to get in the way. His parents really did agree on the important stuff. It’s action that counts. So let’s get at it.

Dick told me his mother was a teacher, both literally and by nature. Fran said Margaret taught her how to miter a bed and how to set a table properly. These things were worth knowing, and worth getting right.

It was his mother who introduced Dick to Chopin and to symphonic music.

Dick was 20 years on the Toledo Symphony board and twice its chairman.

He told me of something his mother said that I think is the most beautiful thing I have heard a spouse say about a spouse. She said to Dick : “Your father is the most noble man I have ever met . … Look into his eyes. And you know he could never deceive anyone.”

Harold was also moody. And, he believed in total personal integrity. If he felt bad, he was not going to pretend he felt good.

He was almost always grumpy first thing in the morning.

Margaret decided she was going to talk to Harold about that. She told him: “Harold, you are the leader of this family and you are not entitled to behave in that fashion.” He changed his ways and thereafter attempted to feign cheerfulness every morning, for that is what was expected of all the Andersons.

I don’t think there is another business, or another family, like this anywhere in America. Theirs is a rich history.

I don’t think I have ever met people as gracious, kind, and engaged in life as Fran and Dick Anderson. It is not possible to convey the depth of their decency. They radiate kindness and warmth. You feel uplifted just to spend time in their presence.

Toledo is lucky to be rooted in a culture of caring and connection, which these two people epitomize. Our city’s human capital is extraordinary.

Fran and Dick Anderson alone, even “retired” as they claim to be, could fuel a renaissance of wisdom and kindness.

Keith C. Burris is a columnist for The Blade.

Contact him at: kburris@theblade.com or 419-724-6266.

First Published February 22, 2015, 5:00 a.m.