Bull by the Horns

by Sheila Bair

  Every once in awhile, both the story and the picture were positive. Some of the best pictures—and stories—ever published of me appeared in Ann Moore’s Time magazine. I had the amazing privilege266 of appearing in a cover story in Time along with Mary Schapiro and Elizabeth Warren, entitled “The New Sheriffs of Wall Street.” I was somewhat amused by the title, because though Mary and Elizabeth were new Obama appointees, I had already been around for three years when the story ran and had the battle scars to prove it. Similarly, Time’s previous coverage of me, in a 2008 profile piece, as well as when it put me on its “Time 100” list in 2009, included very nice stories and pictures—no cheap shots. But my favorite profile267 was a piece published in The New Yorker, written by Ryan Lizza. Lizza took the time to dig down into my Kansas upbringing and Republican populist philosophy. I felt that Lizza “got me,” and the picture, while not particularly flattering, captured, I thought, my determination to protect the “little guys.”

  Sometimes physical appearance prevailed over content. In late 2008, Andrew was contacted by Vogue magazine. The people there said they were planning a women’s “power” issue and wanted to include me. Vogue is renowned for making it subjects look beautiful. It sends in a team that includes wardrobe, hair, and makeup artists. Everything is done for you. I should have known better—they wanted a big time commitment—but I couldn’t resist saying yes. I had been working hard, so I figured I owed myself that one indulgence.

  I spent a few hours the night before the scheduled shoot with Vogue’s beauty experts, trying on clothes, shoes, and jewelry. They settled on a grey silk Armani suit, by far the most expensive thing I have ever worn in my life. The next morning they arrived early and spent hours more doing my hair and makeup. Then the photo shoot began. I adored the photographer. He was a real classic, wearing a tailored sports jacket over designer jeans, his neck wrapped in an expensive silk ascot. During the whole shoot, he chomped on an unlit cigar. He shot me in my office in all sorts of contorted poses. Then we went out to the FDIC balcony in the freezing cold, where he shot me with the Washington Monument and White House as our backdrop. I was shivering uncontrollably, and I kept falling off the stiletto-heeled Bruno Magli pumps they had given me to wear. (My own shoe heels seldom go higher than two inches.) He was a perfectionist, and that went on for most of the morning until Andrew finally told him he had to stop.

  Notwithstanding the pain and torture of the photo shoot, I was like a schoolgirl, giddy over my upcoming appearance in Vogue’s glossy pages, and I made the mistake of telling several friends about it and getting everyone’s expectations up. I just couldn’t imagine that Vogue would approach me and put me through all of that without following through. Then the call came to Andrew. They were bumping me in the “power” issue for Michelle Obama, and they didn’t want to have more than one woman from Washington. Fine, Andrew said, we certainly could understand that, but the pictures would appear in a later issue, right? No, they said, they would never publish the pictures, but they offered to put them online if we wanted. After all of that, we politely declined. Could I at least get copies of the pictures they took? No, they said.

  Later, it was leaked268 by one of the Vogue editors that Vogue’s leadership didn’t think I was attractive enough to appear in Vogue. But at least one of the photos somehow made it into print. Oprah Winfrey’s O, the Oprah Magazine published one269 as part of her “power” issue. I guess O’s editors have different criteria for an appearance in their magazine.

  The Vogue and Sorkin experiences were hurtful, but the media is populated with people who, like all human beings, have their preconceptions and biases. Sometimes folks just take a disliking to you, and there is nothing you can do about it. Though I thought (and still think) that Sorkin’s coverage of me and the FDIC was unfair, I tried to develop some semblance of a positive relationship with him. I made courtesy calls on him when I was in New York and gave him signed copies of my children’s books for his newborn twins. We’ve since had some positive interactions. Most important, he has supported many of the same policies we have surrounding resolution authority and ending too big to fail.

  Sometimes, adverse media attention can be a little more nefarious. Industry-backed operatives can purposefully try to stir up problems for government officials. Because reporters never divulge their sources, one never knows for sure. Certainly I found it curious that Citigroup hired a Washington “insider” known for his skills in spreading negative information about government officials to reporters just a few months before a so-called investigative online journalist ran a mud-slinging story about my family’s finances, as recounted in chapter 18.

  That whole episode was one of the most difficult of my FDIC tenure. It gave me chills to think that people were out there investigating me and my family. I had taken hits in the press before, but they had always been targeted at my policies and decisions or my personal style of leadership. They had never questioned my integrity and had never brought my family into it; that was the only instance when that happened. In reacting to the story, Chris Whalen, a well-known financial analyst and commentator, stated:

  This article suggests270 to me that there is a complete breakdown in the internal systems and controls at HPIF [Huffington Post Investigative Fund]. Were it not for the fact that Chairman Bair was a public official, in my view the HPIF would surely be facing a liable [sic] litigation for this malicious and unwarranted attack.

  Under the First Amendment, public figures have to meet a very high standard of proof to prevail in a libel action against malicious, untrue reporting, which makes us vulnerable to reporters with weak journalistic standards. With the advent of the Internet, it has become much easier for journalists of all stripes to publish their stories, without the rigorous checks and screens carried out by more traditional publications. That is why I have taken such pains to recount the whole sorry episode. If we want good people to undertake public service, if we want them to stand up and exercise independence of judgment from the industry they regulate, if we want them to have the courage to defy the monied interests and risk antagonizing them by telling them “no,” journalists need to view with a jaundiced eye the dirt and scuttlebutt brought to them by industry-paid “insiders.” Though I realize that journalists view their sources as sacrosanct, when the impetus of a story is provided by a paid industry operative, I think that fact should be disclosed. I strongly suspect that that was the case here. But I will never know.

  As challenging as it was to be in the public and media spotlight, public recognition also had its rewards. I was privileged to be the recipient of numerous awards honoring our early warnings about the coming subprime debacle and early advocacy for aggressive intervention to prevent unnecessary foreclosures. Probably the most prestigious of these was the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library’s Profiles in Courage award granted in 2009 to me, Brooksley Born, and Leymah Gbowee, an activist fighting violence against women in Liberia’s horrific civil war. The John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum hosted a private viewing of the Kennedy family artifacts for the honorees and a black-tie dinner the evening before the awards ceremony. I took Colleen—then nine—with me. She had read a children’s picture book about Caroline Kennedy and the pony she used to ride on the White House lawn during her father’s presidential term. Colleen was surprised when I introduced her to Caroline—she had pictured the young girl in her book!

  Caroline was gracious enough to take us around the museum and share personal reflections of her father. The Kennedy years were truly a magical time, and I was glad that my daughter had that wonderful chance to experience them through Caroline’s eyes. The next morning we all trooped onto a stage in the library’s auditorium to receive our awards from Caroline and provide brief remarks. It was a moving experience for me. I have never thought of myself as particularly courageous; I just act when I think something needs to be done. As I said when accepting the award:

  We weren’t trying271 to be significant or to do somethi
ng great or even courageous. We were just trying to do something that seemed like basic common sense. But seeing what was happening, we couldn’t stand on the sidelines and be insignificant, by doing nothing.

  There is a wonderful line in the movie The Iron Lady when a young woman approaches the very elderly Margaret Thatcher and thanks her for being such a great role model. Thatcher, played by Meryl Streep, smiles and tells her, “Back then it was about doing. Today it’s about being.”

  It mystifies me why people take government jobs if they don’t want to act for the common good. That’s what taxpayers pay us for. Some government officials today, I think, just want to “be”—they want the title, the office, the trappings of power. But they don’t “do,” particularly if it risks their reelection prospects.

  Our “doing” at the FDIC garnered many more awards and other recognitions. The Leadership Conference on Civil and Human Rights gave me its highest honor, the Hubert H. Humphrey Award. My old boss, Senator Dole, joined me on the stage when I received the award and delivered a moving tribute to my FDIC record. I could barely contain my emotion. More than two decades earlier, as a young staff aide, I had watched him receive the same award from the Leadership Conference for his courage in steering the Voting Rights Act extension through Congress.

  Probably the most frequently cited accolade was my being named by Forbes magazine as the second most powerful woman in the world for two years running. I remember speaking to my daughter’s elementary school. The principal mentioned the honor in his introduction of me. After I spoke to the girls about the basics of banking and deposit insurance, I opened the floor to questions. “Who is number one?” they eagerly asked. (Answer: Germany’s Angela Merkel.) It is very hard to impress kids these days.

  There were many others. I was the top “woman to watch” in The Wall Street Journal one year and was included in SmartMoney’s Power 30 for several years, as well as the Time 100 and Fortune magazine’s “power list.” I received awards from the Better Business Bureau, as well as numerous consumer groups, including the California Reinvestment Coalition, Operation Hope, and the biggest of all, the Consumer Federation of America. I was the only bank regulator ever to be given a consumer award by that group.

  Some of the awards and honors were less high profile, but I treasured them all as proof that “doing,” even if controversial, was appreciated by the American people. The awards also frequently brought me into contact with interesting personalities. For instance, on May 26, 2009, I was awarded the Burton Foundation’s first annual Regulatory Innovation Award at the Library of Congress. I was sitting backstage in the greenroom, waiting for my turn to go onstage to receive the honor. A woman who looked just like Michelle Pfeiffer was sitting next to me as we watched the ceremony on a closed-circuit monitor. We made polite chitchat, and I almost commented on her striking resemblance to Michelle Pfeiffer until I realized she was Michelle Pfeiffer. Her husband, a screenwriter, was also getting an award.

  At another big Washington dinner, I found myself sitting at a table with Scarlett Johansson. I watched in dismay as several dozen Washington “wheels” stood in line like schoolboys, waiting to ask her if she would pose for a picture with them as their friends’ cell-phone cameras clicked away. (She was gracious and accommodated all of them.) At another event, sponsored by California First Lady Maria Shriver, I appeared on a panel with Governor Schwarzenegger and Virgin Air CEO Richard Branson. The female-dominated audience was giving me the lion’s share of applause, prompting tongue-in-cheek complaints from Branson that I was unfairly benefiting from my gender.

  My frequent television appearances made my face somewhat recognizable to the general public. It gave me a little sense of what movie stars and other well-known media figures must experience every time they venture from their homes. Celebrity is a little disquieting, though usually people are very polite and complimentary. It makes me feel great when someone comes up to me at the grocery store or in a restaurant and thanks me for the job I did at the FDIC.

  Sometimes you aren’t sure whether they are going to be friendly or hostile. In 2010, my husband and I were heading into the Capital Hilton in Washington for the annual black-tie dinner hosted by the White House correspondents. The dinner is a big deal in Washington. The president and first lady attend, and virtually all of the who’s who in Washington are there. As we were approaching the hotel, I saw a large demonstration of activists from Codepink, an antiwar group made up mostly of women. They were shouting at a number of administration officials and members of Congress about bringing our troops home from Afghanistan. The group looked a bit cranky, so I squeezed Scott’s hand and whispered, “Let’s hurry.” We were almost past them when a woman shouted, “Hey, there’s Sheila Bair!” Uh-oh, I thought, are they going to go after me on the bailouts? I decided to stop. I turned and smiled. Whether they were friend or foe, that seemed like the right move. Then I heard a number of voices call out, “We love you, Sheila! Give it to ’em, Sheila!” I was one relieved banking regulator. I smiled again and waved as Scott and I strolled into the hotel.

  CHAPTER 25

  Farewell to the FDIC

  Our vice chairman, Marty Gruenberg, took the lead in organizing farewell festivities for my departure. I told him that I wanted one big celebration. I knew it was going to be an emotional departure, so I wanted all of our good-byes said at once. We decided to have the farewell program in a large conference facility located in our offices in northern Virginia on July 7, the day before my departure. I wanted all D.C.-area staff invited, even if we had to set up overflow rooms, and I also wanted the program webcast to our regional and field offices so they could watch it. Every person in the FDIC organization had made a contribution to getting us through one of the most challenging times in the FDIC’s history, and I wanted as many of them with me as possible.

  I had already completed a round of trips to our six regional offices for teary-eyed farewells to the staff in the field. At every office I was met by lines of staff wanting to say a few words of appreciation and have their picture taken with me. I was regaled with gifts: a Chicago Cubs jersey and a Chicago White Sox hat from our sports-team-conflicted Chicago office; a food basket of southern delights from our Dallas office, known for its robust eating habits, particularly among the resolutions staff (closing banks works up an appetite); a picture of me with a group of examiners I had once accompanied to a bank examination in Atlanta; and a crystal replica of the Empire State Building, the location of our New York offices, from our New York staff.

  Looking back, I wish that I had spent more time in our regional offices. I always learned a lot about local economic and banking conditions when I visited our outstanding staff in the field. Though I did make several trips to our regional outposts, the intense demands of my job kept me tethered mostly to Washington. Not only did I learn a lot about local conditions during my trips, but I just enjoyed meeting the people. Once I met a woman who worked in our Kansas City office whose husband had been a blind student at the University of Kansas when I went to school there. As an undergraduate student, I’d had a job reading to him. Talk about a small world! Many of our employees were actively engaged in altruistic endeavors, volunteering on their own time, for instance, to teach financial education in the schools. We had a special award we gave out each year recognizing employees who donated their time to volunteer.

  In addition to my farewells at the FDIC, I also had a final round of speeches to make to various industry groups. They included the American Bankers Association’s annual Government Relations Conference in Washington and the Independent Community Bankers of America’s annual meeting in San Diego. I had spoken at each of those conferences every year during my five-year tenure at the FDIC. I thought carefully about my remarks for each of the events. It would be my last opportunity to engage those industry groups as a public official.

  My relationship with the ICBA was much more positive than my relationship with the ABA. Throughout my tenure at the FDIC, I had found
that the ICBA was more constructive in its approach to regulation and dealings with regulators than the combative ABA. To be sure, we had had our disagreements with both groups. The ICBA thought our examiners were too harsh on commercial real estate loans, and they criticized our efforts to curb the imposition of overdraft fees, which can cost bank customers thousands of dollars a year. But the ICBA also embraced our quest to end too big to fail and our efforts to significantly raise the capital requirements of large banks. It also supported the changes we made to the way deposit insurance premiums are assessed to shift more of the burden to high-risk big banks. The ABA, on the other hand, seldom supported us on anything. What’s more, it seemed more interested in protecting the interests of megabanks, with their far-flung securities and derivatives activities, than it did in advocating the interests of the traditional banker. It had replaced its director of many years, Ed Yingling, a well-regarded banking attorney, with Frank Keating, a professional Washington lobbyist known for his combative, antiregulation views. Under Keating, the ABA had become even more hostile to any regulator who dared to express views independent of the industry’s.

  Notwithstanding our differences with the ABA over the years, I had always received a warm reception from the bankers who attended its Government Relations Conference. (I usually found it easier to deal with the bankers directly, rather than with their hired Washington guns.) But I was dismayed at some of the hardball (and ineffective) tactics ABA representatives had used during the battles over Dodd-Frank. Now, as the regulators were trying to implement the law, they were also virulently opposing most of the new rules.