TheBurg

22 | theburgnews.com | 09.19 C all it an executive suite ah-ha moment. Penn National Insurance officials brainstorming the words to describe their company produced "vibrant." Also "innovative," "personable" and "resilient." Especially "resilient," infused into a company always trying something new, "no matter how difficult the situation." at's Penn National Insurance President and CEO Christine Sears talking. Around that same time, Sears and her team were preparing for Penn National Insurance's 2019 centennial, excavating historical nuggets spanning the company's agrarian origins to its position today providing property and casualty insurance in 11 states. "We saw how it all came together, and we said that's exactly right," Sears said. "is is something that has been in our company for 100 years. We build trust, and we're caring, and we build strong relationships. We've been rewarded by customers who have been loyal to us and continue to do business with us." Penn National Insurance is many things, all mirroring the milestones of Harrisburg and national history. It's that building anchoring Market Square, a landmark in downtown Harrisburg's turnaround that also leveraged historic preservation. It is a major supporter of education and civic needs. It stands among the top 10 percent of property-casualty insurers in the country. e company dates to 1913, when enraged farmers created the Pennsylvania reshermen's and Farmers' Protective Association to protest a state law limiting weights on the hulking shared equipment they drove from farm to farm. After they won repeal in 1915, they turned their attention to workers' compensation insurance— high on the nation's agenda since the tragic 1911 Triangle Shirtwaist factory fire in New York. e feisty reshermen's Association balked at paying the exorbitant premiums charged by government and private companies. So, on Jan. 6, 1919, the Pennsylvania reshermen's and Farmers' Mutual Casualty Insurance Company filed for a charter. As the eventful decades of the 20th century unfolded, the company kept pace, branching into industrial coverage. By the 1940s, auto insurance was big. Home and fire insurance joined the lineup in the post-war building (and baby) boom. In 1967, the name changed to Penn National Insurance. ere were down times and crises, missteps and reorganizations. CEO Sears recalled that recovering from a ratings slide in the 1980s required raising additional capital while being transparent in a bid to retain the business of loyal agents. "You constantly learn and constantly research," she said. "You understand what's going on and try your best to put the puzzle together." At Linglestown-based Enders Insurance Associates, Penn National Insurance has been "one of our team's best partners for close to 70 years," since the company took a chance on rookie agent Donald Enders, Sr., said grandson and Vice President Andrew Enders. "If they make a promise, they keep it," he said. "ey communicate openly and honestly with us and their clients. ey're good community partners, and they don't flaunt it." ALL For hArrIsburg Penn National Insurance has never strayed far from its first office in downtown Harrisburg. By the 1990s, the company had outgrown its landlocked, three-building campus at 18th and Market streets (landlocked because the owner of Sorrento Pizza refused to sell his building, to the eternal gratitude of staff in what's now Harrisburg school district's Rowland Academy). e suburbs— parking, no flood plain, bigger footprint—beckoned. Mayor Steve Reed had other ideas. His legendary persuasion, plus a $2.7 million sweetener from the state and the company's hard-nosed negotiations for air rights and parking, convinced then-CEO Jim Taylor to build in Market Square. Except that historic but largely gutted office buildings occupied the site. Perhaps the Senate Hotel's brownstone façade could be incorporated into the new design. en again, "that can be tricky, and sometimes you never know what you're getting into," said Historic Harrisburg Association Executive Director David Morrison, involved in the negotiations then in his first stint as HHA director. "Lo and behold, it turned out it was a top- heavy building and didn't have a lot of structural reinforcement," he said. A Penn National Insurance official said that saving the façade would cost $130,000, with no guarantee of success. Morrison counter-proposed. Why not commit $130,000 to historic preservation in the community and HHA would withdraw objection to demolition, "which may or may not be inevitable, anyway?" assessinG the past, insuRinG the FutuRe Over a century, Penn National 's commitment to Harrisburg runs deep. bY m. DIAne mccormIcK An insurance agent, 1940s, with a company-supplied car.

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