Too Big to Fail [245]
Geithner had also sounded Blankfein out about the bank holding company idea. While Blankfein was originally somewhat resistant, by now he had officially warmed up to it. He had become increasingly convinced that if the market knew that the Federal Reserve was behind him, it would instill confidence in investors. And after doing the math, by his estimate 95 percent of Goldman’s assets could already be pledged to the Fed’s discount window, so another 5 percent didn’t represent that big a hurdle. Rodgin Cohen, Goldman’s lawyer, had already discussed this with Geithner earlier in the day; of course, he’d have to sell Bernanke on the idea.
Blankfein, whose voice revealed to Geithner an almost panicked state, had also said that he was planning to raise capital and was certain that the firm would be able to do so from private investors. Maybe even Warren Buffett would be interested.
The waiter at Blue Fin had just brought several massive plates of sushi—spicy lobster rolls, pieces of yellowtail tuna, and tobiko—when Colm Kelleher’s cell phone rang. He had gone to get a late lunch with his Morgan Stanley colleagues, including James Gorman, Walid Chammah, and Tom Nides, and the group had been chatting about their plan to meet later that night with Gao Xiqing of China Investment Corporation, who was bringing an entire team to New York. With Wachovia effectively out of the picture, the Chinese were now their sole prospect.
When Kelleher looked down at the caller ID, he saw it was an international number in Japan and walked to the corner of the restaurant.
Jonathan Kindred, president of Morgan Stanley’s securities business in Tokyo, greeted him and said excitedly, “This is interesting. I just got a call from Mitsubishi. They want to do the deal.” Mitsubishi UFJ, Japan’s biggest bank, was interested in buying a stake in Morgan Stanley.
The call had come completely unexpectedly, and totally unsolicited. Morgan Stanley’s management had actually ruled out calling Mitsubishi earlier in the week after its chairman, Ryosuke Tamakoshi, said publicly at a conference that following Lehman’s bankruptcy his firm would not be making any investments in the United States.
Kindred said he thought Mitsubishi was prepared to move quickly. But Kelleher, rolling his eyes, was skeptical. He had worked with other Japanese banks before and, in his experience, they had always lived up to their reputation as being slow, risk-averse, and deeply bureaucratic.
James Gorman’s eyes widened when Kelleher returned to the table with Kindred’s news. This could be exactly what they needed, he thought.
Kelleher only scoffed, “This is a waste of time, they’re never going to do anything.”
“Colm, I really feel they’re going to do something,” Gorman insisted. When Gorman worked at Merrill Lynch he had orchestrated a joint venture with Mitsubishi to combine their private banking and wealth-management businesses in Japan. He thought that the fact that Mitsubishi had initiated the call to express interest was an encouraging sign. “This stuff doesn’t happen by accident,” he said.
Kevin Warsh, the Fed governor, had taken the US Airways shuttle to New York late on Friday to help Geithner think through how to handle the upcoming weekend. Just as important, he would be Bernanke’s eyes and ears on the ground. As he and his driver made their way through traffic from LaGuardia Airport to the New York Fed, he received a call from Rodgin Cohen, who by now was advising both Wachovia on its talks with Morgan Stanley and Goldman Sachs on its bank holding company status. He told Warsh he had an idea—a potentially big one. It wasn’t a plan officially sanctioned by his clients, just a friendly suggestion from an old-timer in the business.
He suggested to Warsh that the government attempt a shotgun wedding between Goldman and Wachovia. He knew it was a long shot—the “optics,” he acknowledged, would be problematic, given Paulson had worked at Goldman for thirty years and been its CEO