BUSINESS & PROFESSIONAL entrepreneurs A Survivor World War II frontlines gave future auto dealer the savvy to press on. Art Aisner Special to the Jewish News Jeffrey and Mary Tamaroff at the Tamaroff Automotive Group showroom in Southfield I is hard to imagine much that Mary Tamaroff hasn't seen in nearly six decades of selling cars. But the steady decline of the American auto industry has the 83-year-old uber-deal- er wading through uncharted territory. In June, the proud and semi-retired founder of the Southfield-based Tamaroff Automotive Group reluctantly shuttered his Dodge dealership as part of Chrysler's bankruptcy, despite mov- ing 22,000 vehicles in a lucrative 22- year span, plus another 100,000 in fleet sales. "We sold a lot of cars here and thought that it might happen, but didn't expect it," Tamaroff said recently after all appeals were denied. "We didn't have any warning at all." Hardly how he expected to celebrate 40 years in business near the corner of Telegraph and 12 Mile roads. But he also has seen tougher times. Personally, he said closing his flag- ship Buick franchise as part of GM's consolidation push two years ago was harder. The dealership was, after all, a life-altering success and tribute to his perseverance. Tamaroff now sells Honda, Izuzu, Nissan and Acura. Like most in his generation, Tamaroff said his business acumen and personal approach were shaped by his experiences during the war years. At 17, he lied about his age and enlisted in the U.S. Army. Part patriot and partly hungry for an opportunity, the Detroit native and son of Russian immigrants saw the Army G.I. Bill as his meal ticket. He just needed to survive. Tamaroff was among the infantry divisions that swept across Western Europe, liberating it from Nazi rule in late 1944. He survived several combat situations, including the famed Battle of the Bulge, largely unscathed except for shrapnel wounds to the knee. After crossing the Rhine River, Tamaroff knew the tide of the war had turned in the Allies favor and he enter- tained thoughts of a quick victory and homecoming. But those thoughts were short-lived. In January 1945, Tamaroff and his pla- toon were captured by German troops while escorting an overnight mule train of supplies. He spent the remainder of the war with 5,000 other Allied soldiers in a prison camp outside Munich. Though still sharp enough to rattle off the names of comrades and the fine details of business deals over the years, Tamaroff prefers to keep elements of his imprisonment to himself. Forced marches and meals com- prised of a slice of bread and watery soup took their toll, he said. His body weight fell to 140 pounds. Though few then knew of Adolf Hitler's Final Solution, Tamaroff kept his Judaism secret. Upon his capture, he distinctly remembers telling a German commander that the "H" that appeared on his dog tags — a way for Army chaplains to issue proper last rites for fallen or dying soldiers on the battlefield — stood not for Hebrew, but heathen. "I said I had no religion, was a god- less infidel that no one respected. And that gave me more standing than a Jew," he said. He laughs now, but Tamaroff agrees it was the most important sales job of his life. "I became a fatalist after that experi- ence," he said. "Guys died all around me and I had to question how people could be led down that path to do that to others. But I knew I had the tenacity to make it through tough situations." Bold business Regretfully, the pneumonia he contract- ed from the camp kept Tamaroff from enjoying the spoils of liberated Europe. But the "early" return to the U.S. jump- started the next phase of his life. He earned a degree in mechani- cal engineering from the General Motors Institute in Flint, now Kettering University, in 1949. However, in a market saturated with engineers, Tamaroff took his mechani- cal know-how of automobiles and combined it with a persistent charm to carve a niche in used-car sales. Business was good, Tamaroff recalls, gloating about scores of deals and auc- tion steals he made moving used cars from three locations across Detroit until the 1967 riots. "It changed the area and atmosphere forever; and I saw the handwriting on the wall," said Tamaroff, who began eyeing a particular strip of available farmland in the young city of Southfield. Tamaroff was eager to sell new cars, but was rebuffed five consecu- tive years before landing with Buick. Ultimately, he pitched the notion that he was already selling as many used Buicks as some of their top new-car dealers. How? By maximizing a market for those who couldn't afford Cadillacs, comprised mostly of local Jews. All 30 existing Buick dealers passed on the Southfield territory; and Tamaroff, with $64,000 and GM as his business partner, bought 13 acres off Telegraph Road. Two years passed while Tamaroff patiently worked out a zoning dispute with city officials before he could open. "No one wanted to build a building, start from scratch, go in debt. It was a lot of work and everybody thought I was nuts," he said, chuckling. "Everybody! Including my mother," said his son, Jeffrey, referring to Claire, whom Mary married more than five decades ago. Jeffrey, who began cleaning and prepping cars at the dealership as a teen, is now chairman of the company and owner of his own franchises. "But the location was everything," Jeffrey said, with gratitude. "It's what secured the dealership for him and allowed him to be successful." From there, Mary built an empire, anchoring a visible and high-traffic location and offering a wide range of products, including recreational vehi- cles, the Opel, the Electric City Car, the Yugo and the DeLorean. Despite the cutthroat nature of corn- petitive auto sales, Tamaroff stayed a mentsh, said Ed Powers, executive director of the Southfield Chamber of Commerce. "I've known him for at least 15 years and you never, never hear a negative," he said. "Marv's truly an entrepreneur who helped turn the city's northwest corner into a retail magnet. Some said it was crazy at the time, but pioneers are always seen as a little crazy." pi July 9 a 2009 A19