Too Big to Fail - Andrew Ross Sorkin [275]
He now said as much to the congressmembers. “I want to be very clear,” Fuld told the committee. “I take full responsibility for the decisions that I made and for the actions that I took.” He added, “None of us ever gets the opportunity to turn back the clock. But, with the benefit of hindsight, would I have done things differently? Yes, I would have.”
But his audience had little use for his contrition, peppering him instead with questions about his compensation. “Your company is now bankrupt, and our country is in a state of crisis,” Representative Henry Waxman said. “You get to keep $480 million. I have a very basic question for you: Is that fair?”
“The majority of my stock, sir, came—excuse me, the majority of my compensation—came in stock,” Fuld replied. “The vast majority of the stock I got I still owned at the point of our filing.” In truth, while he had cashed out $260 million during that period, most of his net worth was tied up in Lehman until the end. His shares, once making him worth $1 billion, were now worth $65,486.72. He had already started working on plans to put his apartment and his wife’s cherished art collection up for sale. It was a telling paradox in the debate about executive compensation: Fuld was a CEO with most of his wealth directly tied to the firm on a long-term basis, and still he took extraordinary risks.
As he spoke he struggled to gain any measure of empathy from his listeners, suggesting, “As incredibly painful as this is for all those connected to or affected by Lehman Brothers, this financial tsunami is much bigger than any one firm or industry.” He also expressed his great frustrations—with hedge funds for spreading baseless rumors, with the Federal Reserve for not allowing him to become a bank holding company over the summer, and ultimately with himself.
For a moment, as his testimony was winding up, he looked as if he was about to break down, but he steadied himself, as he had done at home virtually every day prior to the hearing. The room fell silent as the congressmembers leaned forward in their chairs, waiting for him to speak.
“Not that anybody on this committee cares about this,” Fuld said, putting his notes aside and surprising even his own lawyer by speaking so extemporaneously, “but I wake up every single night wondering, What could I have done differently?” On the verge of tears, he added, “In certain conversations, what could I have said? What should I have done? And I have searched myself every single night.”
“This,” he said gravely, “is a pain that will stay with me for the rest of my life.” And, he continued, as he watched the government go to extraordinary steps to save the rest of the system he remained baffled why the same hadn’t been done for Lehman.
“Until the day they put me in the ground,” he said, as everyone in the chamber hung on his words, “I will wonder.”
That Monday afternoon Hank Paulson received a private four-page, typed letter from his friend Warren Buffett. They had spoken over the weekend about Paulson’s current predicament—namely, that even though his TARP plan had been approved by Congress, it was not passing muster on Wall Street, where investors were beginning to worry that it would be ineffectual. Paulson had confided in him that he was considering using TARP to make direct investment in banks. Buffett told him that before he went down that path, he had some ideas about how to make a program to buy up toxic assets work that he would put in a letter, which he said would spell out both the problems with the current plan and a solution.
In the letter, Buffett, perhaps one of the clearest and most articulate speakers on finance, first explained the shortcomings of Paulson’s current plan:
“Some critics have worried that Treasury won’t buy mortgages at prices close to the market but will instead buy at higher ‘theoretical’ prices that would please selling institutions. Critics have also questioned how Treasury would manage the mortgages purchased: Would Treasury act as a true investor or would it be