CHAPTER SIXTEEN
At 7:10 a.m. on Monday, September 15, Hank Paulson was sitting at the edge of his bed in a suite at the Waldorf Astoria, the day’s newspapers spread out before him. He had gotten very little sleep, worrying about how the markets would react to the previous day’s news—and about whether AIG would be the next domino to fall.
The headline on the front page of the
Paulson was just finishing dressing when he received a call from President George W. Bush.
Paulson had spoken to the president the night before but only briefly. This would be his first opportunity to explain fully where things stood with the economy and to strategize with him about the administration’s message to the American people.
His voice more hoarse than usual, Paulson began by telling Bush that Lehman’s bankruptcy filing was official. “I’m sure some in Congress are going to be happy about this, but I’m not sure they should be,” he added, acknowledging the political pressure that had been brought to bear against another bailout.
Paulson said he was cautiously optimistic that investors would be able to accept the news but warned him that there could be further pressure on the financial system. Jim Awad, managing director of Zephyr Management, was quoted in that morning’s
Although the U.S. markets wouldn’t open for another three and a half hours, Paulson told Bush that the Asian and European markets were down only slightly, and while the Dow Jones futures were off, it was only by approximately 3 percent.
Paulson then recounted the specific details of the weekend, blaming the British government for misleading them. “We were out of options,” Paulson told Bush, who was sympathetic.
But the president wasn’t concerned about what might have been. He told Paulson that he was unhappy about the bankruptcy, but that allowing Lehman Brothers to fail would send a strong signal to the market that his administration wasn’t in the business of bailing out Wall Street firms any longer.
As they spoke, the first clues that the market wasn’t going to take the news especially well began appearing. Alan Ruskin, a banking analyst at RBS Greenwich Capital, had sent out a note to his clients early that morning trying to divine the meaning of Lehman’s bankruptcy:
“At the time of writing it seems the US Treasury has decided to teach us ALL a lesson, that they will not backstop every deal in the wave of financial sector consolidation that is upon us,” he wrote. “Their motivation is part fiscal and part moral hazard. I suspect more the latter. Presumably the most important reason to teach Wall Street this lesson, is that they will change their behavior, and not take the decisions that are reliant on a public bailout. For many, but not all, this is an impossible lesson to learn in the middle of the worst financial storm since the Great Depression.”
Paulson walked Bush through the Fed’s plan to keep Lehman’s broker-dealer functioning so that it could complete its trades with other banks. “We’re hoping that over the next couple of days, they can unwind this thing in an organized way,” he said.
While Paulson was clearly more disturbed than the president about Lehman’s bankruptcy, he expressed his elation about Bank of America’s decision to buy Merrill Lynch, a sign, he suggested, “of strength” in the market that might “mitigate” the possibility of panic.
Paulson also warned him for the first time that “AIG could be a problem” but assured him that Geithner and the Fed were planning to rally the troops and help raise capital for the firm later that day.
“Thanks for your hard work,” the president told him. “Let’s hope things settle down.”
Doug Braunstein of JP Morgan was leaving his apartment on Manhattan’s Upper East Side at about 7:00 a.m. to head down to AIG when he received a call from Jamie Dimon.
“New plan,” Dimon told him. “Geithner wants us to work with them to do a huge capital raise for AIG. There’s going to be a meeting down at the Fed at eleven a.m.” Braunstein, blocking his ear against the noise of Manhattan traffic, protested, “We can’t raise this kind of money.”
Dimon promised that he’d have some help. “The government is inviting us and Goldman to make this happen.”
A look of horror came over Braunstein’s face as he asked, raising his voice, “Where the hell did Goldman Sachs come from? Don’t they have a conflict? I mean, look at their exposure to AIG. They’re a huge counterparty.”
Dimon dismissed his concerns. “The U.S. government is telling us to do this,” he repeated.
Braunstein persisted. “But—”
“Stop it,” Dimon insisted, annoyed that his top banker was challenging him. “This isn’t about us versus them,” he said. “We’ve been asked to help fix this situation.”
Once Braunstein got to the office, he, Dimon, and Black huddled to come up with a game plan about how to handle the Fed’s unusual request. They decided to enlist the help of James B. Lee Jr., the firm’s vice chairman.
Dimon hurried down the hall to give Jimmy Lee his marching orders. Lee, a classic suspender-wearing banker with a Golden Rolodex, had also arrived early to help manage the aftermath of Lehman’s collapse and had just gotten off the phone with one of his big clients, Rupert Murdoch. Sitting at a desk flanked by four computer screens, with a giant flat-screen television tuned to CNBC’s
“I have a job for you,” Dimon barked, standing in the doorway. “I want you to go down to the Fed.”
