are you doing trying to scare my board and advertising yourself to them like that? I should fire you!”
For a moment Parr didn’t respond. Frustrated that Lehman hadn’t yet signed an engagement letter, Parr snidely fired back, “Dick, that might be difficult because you haven’t hired us yet.” Then, collecting himself, he said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go down a path you didn’t want me to go.”
“You’ll never do that again,” Fuld said, and the phone went dead.
The next day, Fuld—perhaps fearing that he was beginning to become unwound—realized that berating Parr had been a mistake; the stress was beginning to get to him. In his mind he had cut off Parr for running an advertisement for Lazard, not for suggesting the firm was imperiled. But the damage had been done. He called Parr back, hoping to mend the relationship and to invite him for another meeting.
“Have you recovered from the phone call?” Fuld asked contritely.
Ken Wilson was standing in line at Westchester County Airport at 6:45 on the morning of Thursday, July 17, on his way to Montana to start a vacation and do some fly-fishing, when his cell phone rang.
“Kenny, we really need you,” President Bush told him. “It’s time for you to do something for your country.” Wilson and the president knew each other from Harvard Business School, but Wilson knew this call had not been the president’s idea. This was classic Paulson; he must be really hurting. If Paulson wanted something, he would keep going until he got it, even if it meant enlisting the highest authorities.
That weekend, Wilson, after talking it over with his colleagues at Goldman, called Paulson. “I’ll do it.”
On the evening of July 21, Paulson arrived for a dinner in his honor at the New York Fed, organized by Tim Geithner as an opportunity for the secretary to get together with Wall Street leaders—Jamie Dimon, Lloyd Blankfein, and John Mack among them.
The dinner would be the second gathering of Wall Street heavyweights he’d attended that day. He had earlier been to a private luncheon in his honor at the offices of Eric Mindich, a former protege at Goldman Sachs who now ran a hedge fund called Eton Park Capital, where he pressed his case for the pending GSE legislation. Paulson was feeling slightly better about the overall situation, as both Wilson and Jester had agreed to join Treasury, and the prospects for the legislation’s passing were improving. And as he mingled among his former colleagues, he congratulated John Thain of Merrill, who days earlier had sold the firm’s stake in Bloomberg for $4.5 billion.
What still had Paulson worried, however, was Lehman, and particularly a secret meeting that had been scheduled for after the dinner: He and Geithner had helped orchestrate a private meeting between Dick Fuld and the boss, Ken Lewis, in a conference room at the NY Fed. Fuld had been ringing Paulson for the past two weeks about Bank of America, trying to get Paulson to make a call on behalf of Lehman.
“I think it’s a hard sell, but I think the only way you’re going to do it is go to him directly,” Paulson had told Fuld. “I’m not going to call Ken Lewis and tell him to buy Lehman Brothers.”
As the dinner was ending, Paulson walked over to Lewis and said affably, “Those were some good earnings,” reaching out to clasp Lewis’s hand and giving him a knowing look about the upcoming meeting. Although earlier that day Bank of America had reported a 41 percent slide in second-quarter earnings, the results were far better than what Wall Street analysts had expected. That positive surprise followed a series of stronger-than-expected earnings from Citigroup, JP Morgan Chase, and Wells Fargo, all of which were at least temporarily buoying the market.
When Paulson turned to leave and other executives started to get up and mill around, Geithner approached Lewis and, leaning close to him, whispered, “I believe you have a meeting with Dick.”
“Yeah, I do,” Lewis replied.
Geithner gave him directions to a side room where they could speak in private. Geithner had apparently already given Fuld the same instructions, because Lewis noticed him across the room looking back at them like a nervous date. Seeing Fuld start to walk in one direction, Lewis headed in the other; with half of Wall Street looking on, the last thing either of them needed was to have word of their meeting get out.
The two men eventually doubled back and found the room, but when Lewis arrived, Fuld was in the midst of a heated argument with a Fed staff member. It was only the second time the men had ever met, and the sharp tone of his hectoring startled Lewis.
For about twenty minutes Fuld explained how he pictured a deal might work, reiterating the proposal he had made to Curl a week earlier. Fuld said he’d want at least $25 a share; Lehman’s shares had closed that day at $18.32. Lewis thought the number was far too high and couldn’t see the strategic rationale. Unless he could buy the firm for next to nothing, the deal wasn’t worth it to him. But he held his tongue.
Two days later, Lewis called Fuld back.
“I don’t think this is going to work for us,” Lewis said as diplomatically as he could, while leaving open the possibility that they could discuss the matter again.
Fuld was beside himself as he called Paulson at 12:35 p.m. to relay the bad news. Now all he was left with was the possibility of the Koreans, and he pressed Paulson to make a call to them on his behalf—a request that Paulson, having already interceded with Buffett and Bank of America, was now resisting.
“I’m not going to pick up the phone and call the Koreans,” Paulson told him. “If you want to scare someone, call them up and tell them I said they should buy Lehman Brothers,” he said, explaining that his involvement would only heighten suspicion about the firm’s prospects. “Dick, if they call me and want to ask questions, I’ll do what I can to be constructive.”
It was just the latest bad piece of news of a very long day. That night, Bart McDade forwarded Fuld an e-mail from a trader with more speculation about where the negative rumors were coming from. “It is clear that GS [Goldman Sachs] is driving the bus on the hedge funds kabal [
Fuld replied: “Should we be too surprised? Remember this, though—I will.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Robert Willumstad could feel the perspiration begin to soak through his undershirt as he strode along Pearl Street at 9:15 a.m. on Tuesday, July 29, in Manhattan’s financial district. Although the humidity
