Index | Homepage | Good Links | Bad Links | Search | Guestbook
Posted at 09:17 p.m. PDT; Saturday, July 10, 1999
by Mark Warbis The Associated Press
SUN VALLEY, Idaho - High rollers from Hollywood to Wall Street to Silicon Valley have converged in this resort town for the 17th annual media and technology conference organized by investment banker Herbert Allen Jr.
While stars like Oprah Winfrey and Candice Bergen are on hand, the real spotlight this year is on top executives of companies like Amazon.com, America Online, and Yahoo! because the Internet is changing the media and entertainment landscape.
Missing from this year's gathering are Time Warner Chairman Gerald Levin, Seagram Chief Executive Edgar Bronfman Jr. and Walt Disney Chairman Michael Eisner.
Four years ago, Eisner and Thomas Murphy, head of Capital Cities Communications, got together at the conference and hatched a plan to combine their companies in a $19 billion deal.
Since then, interest and speculation around the event has soared. This year, however, traditional media companies are more likely to be on the prowl for hot Internet properties.
The conference, which ends tomorrow, has had a series of discussions and seminars aimed at blending new technology with old. One meeting Thursday featured Steve Jobs and his Pixar animation company, which gained fame in the movie industry for its role in the making of "Antz" and "Toy Story."
Yesterday, the schedule included "The Internet And Our Lives," with participants including NBC News anchor Tom Brokaw, Dell Computer Chairman Michael Dell, Amazon.com founder Jeffrey Bezos, and Yahoo! co-founder Jerry Yang.
Today, Microsoft Chairman Bill Gates is scheduled to participate in "A Discussion With Warren Buffett."
Steve Case, chairman and CEO of America Online, teamed up with Barry Diller, chairman and CEO of USA Networks, and his one-time adversary Sumner Redstone, chairman and CEO of Viacom, to discuss "Unparalleled Prosperity And A Troubled Society."
The conference and its meetings are off limits to the public and reporters, and the privacy is enforced by security guards instructed to discourage loitering outside the Sun Valley Inn and other venues.
While members of the media stood nearby, eager to buttonhole passing VIPs, residents in this exclusive resort town seemed unfazed by the gathering of powerbrokers.
"I don't think the people who live here care very much. We have the biggest concentration of millionaires in the country anyway," said Ed Youmans of neighboring Ketchum. "It just takes up space at the airport."
From The Seattle Times - http://www.seattletimes.com/news/business/html98/sun_19990710.html
By Alex Gove - The Red Herring magazine October 1997
Every July, a covey of private jets descends on Idaho's Friedman Memorial Airport and turns the tarmac into a virtual showroom for corporate aviation.
Then, like the princes of industry that they are, America's top CEOs exit their Venture planes for waiting limousines and travel 14 miles to the tiny ski-ing village of Sun Valley. The occasion is a conference held by Herbert A. Allen, CEO of Allen & Company, a small New York investment bank. While the big activity at Bohemian Grove may be micturating with Henry Kissinger in the woods, there is no shortage of star power at Mr. Allen's Sun Valley retreats: Bill Gates of Microsoft, Andy Grove of Intel, Michael Eisner of Disney, John Malone of TCI, and Warren Buffett of Berkshire Hathaway were just some of the heavy hitters who attended this year's conference.
Mr. Allen requests that his guests refrain from talking to the press about the conference, but perhaps he is asking too much. Like world-class athletes visiting an Olympic village, many of these "players" are rubbing shoulders with an elite that they have been working their whole lives to join. These CEOs may hold the fate of thousands in their hands, but here, even they are starstruck. A weakness for glitz Mr. Allen's chosen do not say a great deal, but this much is known: although the conference is designed to showcase companies and issues from many different industries, media and communications have assumed a more prominent role at Sun Valley in recent years. Part of this is an understandable weakness for glamorous businesses: the people who control the way we communicate have always adopted larger personae than their balance sheets perhaps warrant. But media and communications have also gained an important ally in the Internet. For the first time, entertainment, commerce, and distribution have become virtually interchangeable.
In an interview unrelated to Mr. Allen's gathering, The Red Herring asked Les Vadasz, the man in charge of Intel's investments and acquisitions, whether Intel was still as interested in new media as it had been when it backed such ill-fated ventures as the CAA/Intel Media Lab (see "Showcase to the Stars") and American Cybercast. His initial response--"Absolutely"--was followed by a qualification: "There are other elements of new media. I would consider the evolution of advertising and electronic commerce as a way to interact."
Mr. Vadasz is not the first person to make this observation, but it is provocative. Unlike interactive television, which promised everything and delivered nothing, the Internet and, more specifically, the World Wide Web have opened up a whole new avenue of commercial transactions. More importantly, perhaps, the Internet has made this avenue available to everyone. The telephone companies held the proverbial remote control for the interactive television systems they were developing, but the environment for delivering information and entertainment to the consumer is much more accessible than it once was. Mr. Vadasz's comment underscores not only how far this medium has evolved but how determined Intel and Microsoft are to shape its development.
Mr. Grove, Rupert Murdoch of the News Corporation, Barry Diller of Silver King Communications, Edgar Bronfman of Seagram and Universal, David Geffen of DreamWorks, and Gerald Levin of Time Warner discussed the future of "delivery systems." They reportedly agreed that cable companies held the advantage because the telcos were more concerned with increased competition in the long-distance and local telephone markets than with home entertainment.
But in some ways, the world is no longer so dualistic. As fashionable as cable stocks are these days, cable companies like Time Warner and TCI are short of cash and do not have the $200 to $250 per customer that analysts estimate it will cost to provide Internet access services. Since October of last year, for example, TCI has made an effort to cut down on costs, but it still carries more than $15 billion in debt. Although digital cable looks promising--TCI's investment in '@Home' will surely pay dividends--Mr. Malone is still criticized by investors for the years he spent promulgating the idea of a 500-channel universe. He will be hard-pressed to focus on Internet access in any substantial way. As for Time Warner, the company's second-quarter results were its best in years, but it is carrying a whopping $17 billion in debt that even $5 billion in annual cash flow cannot entirely mitigate.
Although Mr. Levin has said that Time Warner will work with US West and US West subsidiary MediaOne (formerly Continental Cablevision) to develop Internet telephony and Internet access, it only recently mended a bitter dispute with US West, which owns 25.5 percent of Time Warner Entertainment, over ownership of Time Warner's cable assets. Spend wildly, carry a big stick All this turmoil has left a sizable strategic opening for high-tech corporate investors like Intel and Microsoft. In a recent interview with The Herring, WebTV CEO Steve Perlman made no bones about Redmond's designs for the Web: he even compared Microsoft's vision of the Web to interactive television (see "The Bob Tube").
By paying $425 million for WebTV and investing $1 billion in Comcast in June, Microsoft has served notice to the media and communications world that it intends to be a major force in television. This July, Mr. Gates even went so far as to meet with the heads of TCI, Cox Communications, Rogers Communications, and Comcast personally to pitch a new set-top box that uses Windows CE for both analog and digital television sets.
Some observers have said that Microsoft's relationship with NBC is unraveling, and the company has radically changed its plans to develop television-style programming on the Microsoft Network. Nevertheless, it clearly intends to use some of its $15 billion cash reserves to define the new communications medium.
The same can be said of Intel. Although company representatives have openly mocked the cable industry in the past, Intel did invest an amount less than $5 million in '@Home' before it went public in July (Nasdaq: ATHM). Intel has also committed itself to developing other forms of fast Internet access. In addition to embracing ADSL technology, the company has formed a joint venture with Luxembourg's Société Européenne des Satellites to transmit video and other multimedia services to personal computers via satellite. Although Intel has only a minority investment in this venture (which is called European Satellite Multimedia Services), the company has identified fast Internet access as a growth area. "We have actively explored broadband deployment in the past," Mr. Vadasz says, "but we've focused on equipment technology primarily. We will be more active in looking at service companies."
Mr. Vadasz adds that one of Intel's main purposes in investing in satellite services is "to try and accelerate what's happening." He argues that Intel's role as an investor should be a "win-win for everybody." But Microsoft's and Intel's decision to try to shape the development of the media and communications industries obviously makes the established players uneasy.
At the Sun Valley panel on delivery systems, Mr. Grove, who moderated the discussion, was the only person who posited that the PC would play a significant role in the delivery of content to consumers. The rest of the panel members maintained that television would continue to be the primary interface.
It is easy to see why these players don't want to work with Microsoft and Intel. Despite Microsoft's and Intel's protestations that they are only trying to grow the markets for their existing products, few doubt that they will try to exploit any foothold they gain in the industry. In proposing a new operating system for the set-top box, for example, Mr. Gates also reportedly suggested a new revenue model that would allow Microsoft to receive subscription fees for the interactive services it provides, an intrusion that naturally horrified the cable companies.
Today's powers in media and communications naturally take some comfort in the disarray of the high-tech crowd. They also take heart in Microsoft's continued floundering with expensive online content ventures like the Microsoft Network.
But Mr. Grove's fellow panelists may be whistling in the dark. Despite their embrace of transitional technologies like Intercast or Internet TV, broadcasters and cable companies are still essentially using TV as a dumb terminal. And although it is true that Microsoft, Intel, and Compaq have failed to establish a new standard for digital television, high-tech companies can no longer be ignored. With billions of dollars in loose change and the determination to maintain their high growth rates by diversifying into consumer businesses, they will not rest until they have changed the nature of content to suit their business models.
So, with Mr. Gates hawking set-top boxes and Mr. Grove going on about the "connected PC," look for more CEOs wanting to talk about media and communications at next year's Sun Valley gathering. Provided Mr. Gates doesn't invite all of them to Redmond, that is.
This article from The Red Herring magazine - you can subscribe to The Red Herring - (it's no red herring!)
"OVER A LONG WEEKEND, I could teach my dog to be an investment banker." Herbert A. Allen, 56, president of Allen & Co. Inc., has scant respect for the industry in which he has spent his career. "It's the only industry working at full overcapacity," he says. "How many mergers and acquisitions people are really needed?"
Not many, in Herbert Allen's view. Most of what Wall Street does is redundant, he believes, and so are most of its high-paid people. "Corporations can find their own deals, and boards should take responsibility to make sure they do," Allen asserts. Finance isn't all that complicated, Allen would argue; if a deal makes sense, you shouldn't need a Wharton degree to see that it does.
Allen makes no effort to hide his contempt for most of what passes as investment banking. "The capital-raising function is legitimate; the rest is all hot air. Two hundred and eighty analysts showed up for a recent Coca-Cola meeting, each writing forecasts within a penny of each other. How many are necessary? Probably two." All those mergers and acquisitions people? "They might as well be hot dog vendors. Boards hire all these bodies to supply a fatty analysis that no one reads. It's padding for [the boards'] rear ends. They [the boards] might as well look at those reports upside down."
"The big firms with access to public capital will probably be around, but the other guys will go away, being acquired or folded into one another," Allen concludes.
What deals are left will be done for far less than the eight-figure fees typical these days of run-of-the-mill mergers and acquisitions work. Allen says, "People will compete in pricing because basic economics always wins."
"Ultimately Wall Street will be eliminated," he says.
So, is Allen worried? Is he telling his son and heir apparent to seek work in another business? No way. He believes his kind of shop will survive because of what it is and the way it's structured.
"Deals just don't get done in Hollywood unless they [Allen & Co.] are involved," says Barry Diller, chairman of Silver King Communications, a broadcast television company, and an Allen & Co. client of long standing. In the giant Disney-Capital Cities/ABC merger last year, Allen & Co. was the only investment adviser used by that redoubtable pair, Warren Buffett and Cap Cities chairman Thomas Murphy. Also last year Allen represented the buyer or seller in two other entertainment megadeals: Westinghouse's $5.4 billion purchase of CBS and Seagram's $5.7 billion purchase of 80% of MCA from Matsushita.
If Wall Street is a dinosaur, how is Allen & Co. different?
To begin with, it's small. It employs 174 people in one office, on Manhattan's Fifth Avenue. Compare this with Salomon's 6,400 employees and its offices in 22 countries. Or with Merrill Lynch's 46,400 people and 550 offices worldwide. Allen & Co. has just $275 million in capital and no debt. By contrast, Goldman, Sachs and Salomon each have roughly $5 billion in capital but have $13 billion in debt.
Of course, Allen doesn't pretend to do all the things its bigger competitors do. No real estate investing, currency hedging or derivatives. It has no research department--none. The research is done by the principals themselves. Allen & Co. does venture capital, underwriting, private placements and money management.
"It's a unique culture," says Allen, in his soft-spoken way. "We have a welfare state for our employees, and raw capitalism for the principals."
Let's parse those statements, because they express the crux of a highly effective management philosophy. Allen & Co. is a welfare state because last year it paid its salaried employees annual bonuses equal to 100% of their pay. It's capitalist because it's made Allen close to a billionaire and made multimillionaires of its 14 managing directors. With only a few mouths to feed, Allen can afford to feed them well, and he does.
The rawness consists of this: There are no guarantees, no safety net. The firm pays only nominal salaries to principals. On every deal he or she brings in, an Allen managing director gets 30% of the take in cash after expenses are paid. They don't have to wait until year's end. When the client pays, Allen pays. Because Allen runs a lean shop and doesn't require huge amounts of borrowed capital, the overhead and expenses that come off the top are relatively modest.
The lean overhead and slim staffing allow Allen & Co. to stress a principal-to-principal approach. "There is no bait and switch at Allen" is the way managing director Nancy Peretsman puts it. She refers to the common practice of sending a senior person to solicit an account and then turning it over to juniors. "In bigger firms, the name gets the business," Peretsman claims. "The actual execution gets handed to a team of new M.B.A.s, who are clueless. Working for big firms is like living in New York City. Allen is like living in a little town."
Allen & Co.'s principals, in short, are not just agents of the firm; they are personal participants in every deal they bring in. When an Allen principal wants the firm to invest, Allen first asks: "How much of it do you want? If he's not willing to make the personal sacrifice and gamble on the investment, I'll say, `We'll pass.' " It's a put-up-or-shut-up culture. "Most Wall Street firms give what they call `objective advice,' which means they have nothing to lose by giving bad advice. I say, forget objectivity."
Could this compensation principle be applied to other businesses?
Allen says he actually tried to promote such a compensation system back in the late 1970s and early 1980s when he controlled Columbia Pictures. He suggested the moviemaker pay studio executives a small salary and a portion of profits. "I couldn't get anyone interested," he says.
"It might not work in a large company," Allen muses, "but in a small place, a system like ours can work." Yet another reason Allen wants to remain relatively small.
The original Allen & Co. partnership was formed 74 years ago by Allen's uncle, Charles Allen, who died in 1994. Herbert's father, also named Herbert, now 88 and ailing, joined his brother in 1927. They backed and invested in new and established companies, the biggest success being the pharmaceutical company Syntex, which was sold in 1994 to Roche Holding Ltd. for $5.3 billion. Other big Allen successes: Benguet Consolidated, a Philippines-based gold mine, and Ogden Corp., a food service company. Allen & Co. never did lots of deals. Not burdened with overhead, it didn't have to. It was an outfit that worked more by gut instinct and feel than by lengthy study. In 1975 Charles Allen was interviewed by Forbes. He cited his immensely successful purchase of a controlling interest in Syntex: "Lazard was analyzing and analyzing, and we just said `fine.' All our deals are that way." We asked him why he made such a snap judgment: "Interesting product," Charles Allen replied. "Liked the people." This could be Herbert speaking.
Brought up in the family business, Allen was given responsibility early on. In 1966, at 26 and a few years out of Williams College, he was tapped by his uncle and his father to be chief executive at their investment bank, Allen & Co. Inc. This was only a tiny part of their holdings. Much as they wanted to see the boy make good, the elder Allens weren't betting the farm on him. Allen & Co. Inc. started with just $1 million in capital.
Herbert Allen soon showed his dad and his uncle that he could handle the responsibility. In 1973 he put up $1 million of his own money and $500,000 of the firm's to buy a controlling interest in Columbia Pictures at $4 a share. His father and uncle didn't think much of the idea but, what the hell, give the kid a chance to learn from his mistakes. It looked as if he had made a big one. Six years after Allen bought control, Columbia studio chief David Begelman was caught embezzling studio money.
But Allen turned the company around and sold Columbia to Coca-Cola in 1982, receiving Coke stock worth $72 for each of the Columbia shares that had cost him $4. Allen & Co. Inc. still holds all of its Coke, and each of those $4 Columbia shares is now worth $2,400 in Coke stock. Herbert Allen personally, and Allen & Co. Inc., have, so far, together made a cool half-billion dollars.
Despite a general perception to the contrary, Coca-Cola made out pretty well, too. After investing a total of $750 million in the film company, Coke and its shareholders ultimately realized a $3 billion gain when Columbia was spun off and sold to Sony nine years later.
The deal made Allen a power in the entertainment business. He never forgot that he succeeded because his elders let him take risks provided he put up his own money alongside the firm's. He treats his associates the same way. It shows in the type of people the firm attracts.
After getting a law degree from Harvard and an M.B.A. from Stanford, Richard Fields passed up more lucrative offers at other Wall Street firms to join Allen as an associate for roughly $60,000 a year in 1986. "I liked that there was no structure," says Fields. "I didn't mind the lower pay. I was young and didn't have many responsibilities, and Allen & Co. was the only place I could invest and do agency work at the same time."
His chance to invest came five years later. He brought to Allen Omnipoint, a company that owned intriguing wireless communication technology. It needed $5 million to get off the ground. Would Allen & Co. prime the pump with $1.5 million? Allen put the usual question to Fields: Will you personally take 10% to 30% of the deal? Sure, Fields replied, if I had the money, but I haven't a dime. Allen arranged a loan of $150,000. Fields took 10% of the Allen stake in Omnipoint.
Fields received from Omnipoint five-year warrants that converted to common stock, a seat on the board and a three-year contract to handle all of the firm's investment banking. It would be years before the investment would pay off, but Fields would have income from investment banking work for rent and spending money.
In January this year, Omnipoint went public at $16 a share; the stock sold recently at $31. Allen & Co.'s $1.5 million in stock and warrants is worth $103 million. Fields, 40, now an Allen & Co. managing director, has taken out more than his original investment in fees. His Omnipoint holdings are worth $15 million.
Fields' fellow managing directors are an assortment of ruggedly individualistic buccaneers. Managing director Paul Gould, 50, can well afford the antique toys and stuffed animals that fill his office to overflowing. Managing Allen & Co. Inc.'s $150 million arbitrage fund, Gould has earned a 19% annualized return since l979, compared with the market's 15%. Gould has a nose for finding companies that are merger bait, often at first glance unlikely prospects. One was Resource Recycling Technologies. In 1993 Gould, along with Allen & Co., bought a 35% piece of the company for $2 million. Its business of collecting and selling recyclables like cardboard and glass was itself in the dumpster. Then prices started to rise, with cardboard going from $30 a ton to up to $150 a ton. Last year Gould sold the company to WMX Technologies at four times what he and the firm paid.
At 61, managing director Stanley Shuman is a 35-year veteran of Allen & Co. Shuman is one of media magnate Rupert Murdoch's closest advisers, and he's close to wealthy Manhattan real estate developer Bernard Mendik. Shuman is no shrinking violet, and his large ego is a source of amusement to some of his colleagues. "When you tell Stan you know someone, he always goes one step better," jokes managing director John Schneider. "I'll say, `I know Bob Wright,' and he'll say, `I know Jack Welch.' " Allen chimes in: "Everyone of any consequence was once Stan's roommate."
All those mergers and acquisitions people? "They might as well be hot dog vendors."
Allen & Co.'s chairman is Donald Keough, 69. The day after retiring from Coca-Cola as president in 1993, Keough became chairman of Allen & Co. With his legendary Rolodex, Keough helps open doors. And occasionally, he assists in a side of the business that Herbert Allen despises: the ceremonial. At a recent event, Keough was schmoozing with clients and potential clients when Allen, who likes dinner at 5:30 p.m. and bed at 9 p.m., was probably fast asleep.
Allen himself is a somewhat aloof and physically restless man. He's constantly on the move between a house he helped design in Williams town, Mass., his condo in Sun Valley, Idaho, a rustic ranch in Cody, Wyo. and his apartment in New York City's Carlyle Hotel. One gets the sense that even as he answers your questions, part of his mind is simultaneously somewhere else. Early to bed, he's early to rise, usually walking his dog before 6 a.m. and occasionally working out at the Allen & Co. gym before 7 a.m. Says managing director John Simon: "I don't know him at all. I wish I did." Keough, with his warm, avuncular manner, is as close as Allen has to a business confidant.
"Herbert Allen is not a conventional person and doesn't try to run a typical operation," says Warren Buffett. That is something of an understatement.
That atmosphere attracts interesting people. John Simon has three graduate degrees and is known as Dr. Sour because he's never met a deal that at first sniff he's liked. Second sniff, however, has led him to Applied Imaging, a medical instrumentation company that is about to go public through Montgomery Securities at around seven times Simon's original $2 million investment.
Managing director Enrique Senior, 53, is a Cuban immigrant who has three undergraduate degrees and an M.B.A. He played a key role in Cap Cities/ABC's merger with Disney, as well as in the original Columbia sale to Coke. "Senior really knows our business," says Tom Murphy, retired chief executive of Cap Cities. Adds Buffett: "We only had three days to do the merger, or not at all. Senior did a masterful presentation."
John Schneider, 57, the firm's institutional salesman, is cut from a different cloth. He's a raucous practical joker. He once rode a horse into a Sun Valley cocktail party, during Allen's annual conference. "He knows every body," says superentrepreneur Wayne Huizenga, who has used Allen & Co. to raise $400 million in the last 12 months to fund acquisitions for Republic Industries (Forbes, Nov. 20, 1995). Schneider lined up the first $100 million for Republic by signing up eight investors while they were sitting around a pond at the Sun Valley conference.
Nancy Peretsman, 41, is one of the rare recent hires. She came over from Salomon last year. Allen had been looking Peretsman over for a long time. As a student at Princeton in the 1970s, she baby-sat for Allen's children and had a summer internship at Allen & Co. working for Paul Gould. She kept in touch and, in 1980, Herbert Allen handed her some business when he was running Columbia Pictures. Kirk Kerkorian had made a hostile bid for Columbia Pictures. Allen gave Peretsman, then an associate at Blythe Eastman Dillon, the assignment of writing a fairness opinion on his offer. She parlayed that success and moved on to Salomon as a media specialist. Last year she finally signed on at Allen & Co.
Peretsman says she joined him in part because she wanted a chance to invest in the deals she develops rather than just getting paid for them.
Not everything Allen does turns to gold, which has encouraged him to keep the firm small. Allen Value Partners, a $100 million fund for institutional investors, is being liquidated after earning an average of 12% annually for its seven years, a return Allen sheepishly calls mediocre. Besides not doing especially well, the fund created some conflict of interest problems for the firm. It comes down to this: Dealmaking and investing is Allen's strength; running money isn't.
In short, Allen & Co. is chiefly a function of what its principals are good at. It is a loose confederation of individual dealsters. In 1986 Allen created a special class of "B" shares that would be handed out to his managing directors. The idea was that increased stock ownership might encourage more cooperation among the principals, more synergy. He's not sure it's worked. Now he prefers rewarding people with options on some of the firm's holdings rather than stock in the firm.
Allen once said he has lunch with his managing directors every Wednesday "to keep them from killing each other." What holds them together is their relationship with Herbert Allen and the system that gives them support but imposes few rules on them.
This is not a place where you have to appear busy if you are not. Stanley Shuman usually takes a month off a year to ski at Vail. Short of utter disaster, Enrique Senior leaves the office for the tennis court promptly at 4:30 p.m. You get no brownie points here for working long hours or churning out impressive reports. Quite the contrary: If you appear to be working too hard, Herbert Allen may order you off to a safari in Africa, which he once did with Jack Schneider over his protests.
What these people have in common, besides unconventional personalities and a liking for risk, is a relationship with key clients that goes beyond the usual investment banking relationship and makes them key advisers. Nancy Peretsman, for example, is close to Laurence Tisch, to the senior partners of Boston Ventures and to Gustave Hauser of Hauser Communications.
Jack Schneider counts among his best clients, besides Wayne Huizenga, Nike's Philip Knight, retired Wesray partner Ray Chambers and WMX's Phillip Rooney.
Paul Gould deals with John Malone of Tele-Communications, Inc.; Edgar Bronfman Jr. of Seagram; and Brian Roberts of Comcast.
Still laboring in relative obscurity in the bowels of the firm is Herbert Allen III. The young Herbert, 29, walks and talks like his father, right down to his boisterously uninhibited laugh. Fresh from Yale in 1989, he worked for mutual fund house T. Rowe Price and London investment firm Botts & Co., before joining the family firm. If he acquits himself well, there's little doubt he can succeed his father. His father owns slightly less than 45% of Allen & Co., and his family owns 35% more. The 14 managing directors and a few other employees own the rest.
Is Allen's low overhead, principal-to-principal, virtually paperless dealmaking the wave of the future?
A prominent competitor who insists on anonymity disparages some of Allen's more sweeping predictions. He says: "Look at their market share. It's minuscule in every category--from IPOs to underwriters to investment banking. Allen charges lower fees because it can't always command the highest fees. They charge what they can get. Herbert Allen should be less of a hypocrite, saying that he doesn't care about doing more investment banking business. They even cultivate an image that they don't care about their image, which is far from the truth. When they were representing QVC they were talking to the press every day."
Yet even this competitor sees shrinkage in the merger and acquisition fees that bring in billions of dollars every year to The Street. Allen & Co. got just $2 million for its role in the giant Disney-Cap Cities/ABC deal. Warren Buffett, an Allen client on the deal, points out it wasn't typical because, unlike most corporate chieftains, he and Tom Murphy were experienced dealmakers. They didn't need reams of computer printouts and platoons of M.B.A.s. All they wanted was a fairness opinion to present to their board. Herbert Allen had been helpful, and so his firm got the relatively modest fee. "I asked them to pay me what they wanted to," says Allen. In putting it that way to the penny-pinching Buffett, he must have known he wasn't in for a king's ransom.
The future lies somewhere between Allen's radical view and the present situation. Many corporate executives, little more than hired hands, don't have the confidence or the power to do giant deals without plenty of support. On the other hand, sheer economics are certain to drive down fees and eliminate a lot of financial busywork.
Herbert Allen thinks sell-side analysts--the folks who peddle investment ideas to institutions on behalf of investment houses--are a useless breed. "How dare they push stock they do not own," he says. He is contemptuous of investing institutions that sit around waiting for sell-side analysts to bring them ideas. "Instead of spending time with analysts, the institutions should spend it with the companies," says Allen. "They should bypass Wall Street." In a bear market, when performance is harder to come by, this could well come to pass.
If Allen is right, all you M.B.A. candidates out there might want to rethink your plans of looking for a job on The Street. And all you corporate executives can stop wining and dining with investment bankers--and get out there and do your own deals.
Issue Date July 1, 1996
When demonstrators packed the streets of Seattle last December to scuttle the World Trade Organization meeting and shout about their dissatisfaction with economic globalization, some journalists described them as "politically correct" activists. Reporters and pundits contended that the protestors offered simplistic and one-sided solutions lacking any objectivity. Two months later, scores of these same media commentators showed up in Davos, in the Swiss alps, to cover the annual summit of the World Economic Forum, a gathering of many of the most important corporate and government leaders in the world. I joined them to watch top media chieftains interact with the overlords of the global economy-only to discover, ironically, that there was a PC quality to the media's cheerleading at Davos.
In this case, "P" stood not for "political" but for "participate"-and "promote": many media people were invited to Davos as insiders, not outsiders; to join, not to watch. The agenda of globalization requires public acceptance of that model as the only viable strategy for economic growth. That was the message that Bill Clinton brought to Davos. The architects of the new global economic order need to market this message; that's the role they've assigned to the media. Media outlets have become willing promoters of globalization and consistent attackers of its noisy critics. The media not only spin global news to hype market values but are themselves purveyors of products, which they bring to the world market. They sell as they tell. In Davos, many media companies had displays to demonstrate their wares and push propaganda via their information technology and specialized services.
As for the "C" in "PC," I was struck by how the media landscape was literally, physically divided along class lines. The working press-the grunts who file daily copy-were stuck in the dungeon-like basement of the high-tech Congress Center, with its plethora of conference rooms, meeting halls and executive lounges looming above. They were crammed into small, smoky rooms in the area typically used, in Swiss buildings, for fallout shelters. You had to squeeze your way between the rows of computer screens and reporters babbling in a cacophony of different tongues. There, behind bombproof doors, many media drones seemed tethered to their computers, pounding away to meet deadline cycles. It's important to note that all of these working class journos had badges restricting their access to certain Forum events. Thus, much of the copy they wrote was based on reams of handouts, session summaries and the snatches of the proceedings they watched on live, closed-circuit TV. The whole building was quickly awash in tons of background documents and company promo packets. The airlines would later rack up a fortune in excess baggage charges for overweight luggage, stuffed with forests' worth of Davos documents. I nearly suffered a hernia hauling all my booty home.
A level up, some of the better-known media brands, such as CNN, CNBC and Reuters, had their own suites and mini-studios, designed to shuttle interviewees in and out for quick Q&As and pithy soundbites. A state-of-the-art, user-friendly computer conferencing system with scores of available terminals made requesting appointments from the high and mighty easy and efficient-for the media's high and mighty. Outside crews from lesser media outlets were escorted in for limited shooting on the conference floor.
Further up the media food chain, and not confined to offices or routines, "name" correspondents were given privileged "all access" white badges and full conference status. The editors and star columnists were labeled "media leaders" and invited to join key panels to share their punditry with the crowds. Usually, these were globalization gurus such as the MIT economist Paul Krugman and Thomas Friedman of The New York Times op-ed page. The more skeptical among us were kept in the seats, not on the stage. We could ask questions but not offer perspectives.
Finally, at the apex of the heap, were the big media bosses and new media honchos who were there to do much more than report on the schmoozing. They wheeled and dealed in separate meetings in nearby well-guarded hotels and special offices. I met Microsoft chief Bill Gates; Howard Stringer, the newly knighted head of Sony; Michael Bloomberg of Bloomberg Media; Rob Glazer of Real Networks; Shelby Coffey of CNN; and Robert Bartlet, the ultra-conservative commissar of The Wall Street Journal's editorial page. I missed AOL's Steve Case, News Corp's Rupert Murdoch, Barry Diller of USA Networks, and other top players who were on hand to promote their companies and explore new business alliances.
Significantly, and not surprisingly, there was no discussion, at any level of the media pyramid, of the media's role and responsibility in covering economic issues-nor did any media company take part in the many discussions of corporate social responsibility. As well, none of the handful of well-known critics of globalization from non-governmental organizations, who were invited to add spice and conscience to this year's debates, challenged media practices or the largely uncritical coverage of the event. They, like the policy makers they came to criticize, were happy to get their 15 seconds in the media sun.
This is not to deny that critical and reflective reports on the Forum did emerge in some outlets. The Wall Street Journal's news pages exposed the business-related conflicts of interest of Forum founder Klaus Schwab, while the International Herald Tribune reported thoroughly on NGO concerns and gave op-ed space to globalization critics like AFL-CIO President John Sweeney and Malaysian environmentalist Martin Kohr. London Observer's editor Will Sutton slammed the lack of critical voices in the conference, noting that "the voices arguing that corporations need to behave...socially responsibly, and with an eye on environmental sustainability, are the weakest in the 11 years I have been coming here. In over 70 sessions on business there are no more than half a dozen in and around this territory-and they tend to be undersubscribed. The 'hard' conversations are about how to maximize shareholder value and how to be a winner in the new economy." Nonetheless, there were many experienced and thoughtful writers on hand who deserve credit for competent and balanced takes.
Overall, however, the Forum did a good job of comforting-some might say co-opting-reporters. I'll admit to enjoying media dinners (paid for by Coca-Cola) and a special program for the "Club of Media Leaders" featuring briefings by His Majesty King Abdullah of Jordan and the billionaire King of New Media, Bill Gates. It was hard not to feel a sense of importance and entitlement when supping with kings and king-servers. These "briefings" were largely superficial. Gates, for example, sang the praises of Microsoft's 2000 product line, sounding like a salesman, not a visionary. There was an unmistakably American spin on all of this, too, evident in the cozy meals arranged with U.S. trade-negotiator Charlene Barshefsky and Treasury Secretary Larry Summers.
American officials dominated the Forum, perhaps reflecting the still ballooning U.S. economy. President Clinton flew in, along with Secretary of State Madeleine Albright, Energy Secretary Bill Richardson, and National Economic Advisor Gene Sperling. While other countries dispatched Presidents and Ministers to lobby the corporate elite, none sent more big guns than Washington did. This year, Davos was USA all the way.
While CEOs and monarchs wined and dined with the press, activists got nowhere near this high-toned brand of access to the media-though top U.S. financier George Soros, who has warned of a "capitalist threat" as dangerous as yesteryear's communist threat, did get his own meet-the-press luncheon. A watchdog group, Public Eye on Davos, condemned the focus of the Forum and sponsored a debate between NGO leaders and Forum officials, which I moderated. It was poorly covered-perhaps because it was held at a nearby asthma clinic, which would have required journalists to leave the warm cocoon of the Conference Center.
TV crews did hustle into the streets when a smaller than expected anti-globalization demonstration finally materialized. The protest was quickly contained by the Swiss police, who physically limited media access. I was in the right place at the right time, which gave me a front-row seat when a handful of stick-wielding, slogan-shouting anarchists trashed the windows of a local McDonald's. Unfortunately, the fast-charging demonstrators-with their German signs calling for victory for Mexico's Zapatista rebels and freedom for American death-row inmate Mumia Abu-Jamal-made little effort, unlike their Seattle counterparts, to communicate their ideas to the press, or even to translate them for non-German speakers. Confused and incoherent, the messages and concerns of the protestors were reduced to a side bar in most articles. Some TV units did get pictures of the melee, which included snowballs hurled at tear gas-toting police (two of whom were assaulted by the protestors).
Often, media coverage snidely denigrated globalization critics. Here's Diane Francis of Canada's National Post on John Sweeney. "While some CEOs try to skimp, union chiefs live like kings. Take John Sweeney, head of the 13 million-member AFL-CIO union giant in the United States." After criticizing Globalization, "he left for his spacious Davos apartment digs. No spartan ski lodgings for this self-appointed champion of the working class around the globe." Self-appointed? Of all the critics in Davos, Sweeney was one of the few who was elected. He doesn't deserve this type of cheap shot in a town where most corporate CEOs were housed in far fancier luxury suites.
To their credit, many of the journalists and editorialists I met at the Forum had thoughtful and critical insights to share about their own media experiences, though it is doubtful many of these critiques will make it into print. One of these conversations-an informal discussion about media corruption worldwide among an international group of journalists-will be the subject of an upcoming "Dissector" column
For now, I am still digesting the dialogues and diatribes I attended at Davos. Then, too, I've resolved to work hard at losing calories from all those freebie, sauce-rich Swiss meals as I sort through my piles of Davos detritus and watch the follow-up globalization infomercials.
Danny Schechter, "The News Dissector," is the Founder and Executive Editor of the Media Channel and author of News Dissector (Electron Press, February).
AS THE MEDIA WATCH THE WORLD, WE WATCH THE MEDIA.
The Media Channel is a not-for-profit project of OneWorld Online and The Global Center, and is produced by Globalvision New Media.
Danny Schechter Executive Editor,The Media Channel http://www.mediachannel.org VP, Globalvision Inc. 1600 Broadway #700 New York, New York l0019 PHONE:212-246-0202 X3006 FAX: 212 246-2677 BOOK: http://www.globalvision.org/moreuwatch
To Tony's INDEX PAGE