The business was doing OK, but at a price. Jack Hayes was tired of operating his massage-therapy clinic seven days a week, juggling employees' and clients' schedules, missing his wife.
In late 2008, Hayes asked for help. He composed an email to another businessman who'd managed to make ends meet with a six-day work week. Hayes' request was simple: Should he close on Sunday, too?
Two days later, the Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio, business owner got a response. In an email, Dan Cathy, president and chief operating officer of Chick-fil-A, cited Proverbs 3:5-6:
"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight."
On the first Sunday of January 2009, a sign on the door of Connecting Touch Therapy & Wellness Center Inc. of Cuyahoga Falls announced that the business no longer would operate on Sunday. "At that point, Mr. Cathy and I were on the same level," Hayes said. "I would rather be open six days a week with the Lord on my side than seven days without it."
It would be easy to say the Lord is on Dan Cathy's side; Chick-fil-A, a College Park-based business with more than $4 billion in annual sales at 1,600 locations, is one of the nation's largest family-owned restaurant chains.
A more appropriate assessment: Cathy is on the Lord's side. Those who know Cathy say he's a businessman who believes the real business of life comes from following the Bible, even if it angers others.
Cathy's beliefs have recently put him to the test. On a national radio show, he said advocates of same-sex marriage are "inviting God's judgment." In another interview, he affirmed his belief that marriage should be between a man and woman.
Cathy's statements set off a debate that's played out in talk shows, on opinion pages, in blogs and in Chick-fil-A restaurants everywhere. On Aug. 1, thousands of people crowded Chick-fil-As across the country in a show of support for Cathy. Two days later, supporters of same-sex marriage held "kiss-ins" at Chick-fil-A restaurants nationwide.
The controversy echoed another sparked a year ago when critics attacked donations from WinShape Foundation Inc., Chick-fil-A's charity, to organizations that critics say promote hatred of gays.
Some business experts questioned Cathy's judgment, saying it was pointless for a high-profile executive to embroil his entire business and well-developed brand in the middle of national dispute.
The recent uproar appears to have caught Chick-fil-A by surprise. Cathy, 59, declined several interview requests through Chick-fil-A's public relations division, and has been nearly silent in the past few weeks.
Others aren't as quiet.
"He's one of the finest human beings I've ever known," said Ken Bernhardt, a Georgia State University marketing professor and adviser to the chain.
Bernhardt recalls a colleague who called Cathy, asking if it was OK if the university used the image of a statue commissioned by Chick-fil-A to adorn T-shirts that would be distributed at an impending conference. Cathy said sure — then offered to buy them.
Of course, Cathy can afford to buy a mountain of T-shirts, Bernhardt said. But that's not the issue.
"Dan didn't make the person ask for that," said Bernhardt.
Such personal accounts of Cathy don't resonate with everyone.
Marci Alt would like to share her story with Cathy. She's married to a woman, has two children and recently started an online petition inviting his family to dine with hers. "I'll even make matzo ball soup for him, like a good Jewish girl."
Alt said she supports Cathy's right to speak his mind, but is opposed to the chain's WinShape Foundation funding groups that she termed anti-gay. "It angers me that he's so close-minded that he all he can see is himself," the Decatur resident said. "Aren't we all God's children?"
Cathy, said Bernhardt, came up the traditional way. The oldest son of Chick-fil-A founder S. Truett Cathy, he got started in the family business with a broom, sweeping the Dwarf House, the chain's first restaurant. A 1975 business graduate of Georgia Southern University, he oversaw an array of operations, opening restaurants all over the country. In 2001, he became the president and chief operating officer.
"He is a servant leader," said Phyllis Hendry, president and CEO of Lead Like Jesus. The Augusta nonprofit stresses leadership principles based on Jesus' teachings; Cathy is a member of its executive advisory board.
Hendry recalls the organization's 2009 annual meeting, held in Dallas. One session went long, dragging into the afternoon. Attendees struggled to pay attention.
Suddenly, Cathy burst through the door, pushing a cart stacked with chocolate milkshakes. "He thought we needed a little pick-me-up," Hendry said.
He leads by example, said Stephen Briggs, president of Berry College, where Cathy is on the board of trustees. The chain's WinShape Foundation also funds 30 scholarships for incoming students each year.
"He'll see a piece of trash lying on the sidewalk and without breaking stride, he'll pick it up and put it in his pocket," said Briggs. Before long, he said, others are picking up trash, too.
'Once," said Briggs, "I saw him do it in a McDonald's parking lot."
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The camera pans customers and employees, pausing occasionally to focus on one person. "Fired from his job and is worried about how he will provide for his family," reads a caption beside one diner. "Single mom raising a family alone & trying to make ends meet," reads another. "Worked hard through high school and accepted into the college of her dreams," another caption reads.
The video, depicting a Chick-fil-A dining room, is titled "Every Person Has A Story." Its message: Our customers and employees are more than entries on a profit-loss sheet. Since Cathy posted it on YouTube last year, it's been viewed nearly 160,000 times.
Cathy has a "standard" in his life, said Charles Carter, retired pastor of Jonesboro First Baptist Church. "For Dan, that standard is the Bible."
Carter has known the Cathys for years — he and Truett Cathy are best friends — and was Dan Cathy's pastor until the restaurateur moved to Fayetteville and transferred his membership to another church.
He recalls watching Dan Cathy ski fearlessly down the snowy slopes of Lake Placid, N.Y., on a long-ago vacation. "Whatever he does, he does with complete abandon," Carter said. "He's going to do it right."
Cathy's been active in social causes, giving time and money to organizations that care for people living on the margin. Earlier this year, he served food at the Atlanta Mission, a Christian nonprofit that feeds and houses nearly 1,000 people every day. He's been a regular contributor to City of Refuge, a homeless foundation whose headquarters aren't far from the Georgia Dome. Cathy makes it a stop during bus tours he conducts for Chick-fil-A operators and others.
"I love Mr. Dan," said Vanessa Cowans, a former client who now volunteers at the center, "and I love it when he comes to see me."
Cathy believes in mixing with people from different economic levels, said Bruce Deel, an ordained minister who founded City of Refuge 15 years ago. Cathy has a term for it: "Your ears should pop every day."
Translation: You should see people from different walks of life daily.
"When I look at Dan, I see a model of consistent leadership," Deel said. "He doesn't waver."
Not everyone agrees. Anita Beaty, executive director of the Metro Atlanta Task Force for the Homeless, recalled Cathy spending the night at the shelter and pledging financial help. He cutoff his support after giving the task force more than $200,000, but officials expected as much as $500,000 more.
"We were disappointed," said Beaty, who's filed a lawsuit contending business leaders and others conspired to close the shelter by cutting public funding and private donations. "We were expecting him to make good on his pledge."
She believes Cathy folded under pressure. In a 2010 deposition, Cathy said he did talk with business leaders about his support.
"Billionaires are people too," said Beaty. "They want to be appreciated by people who are important."
That's how Hayes, the Ohio businessman, felt when he saw the email from the billionaire restaurateur. Hayes has five employees; Chick-fil-A, more than 60,000.
"I was still on the fence" about closing on Sunday, Hayes said. "Then I got that email. I said: That's it."
