by Stacy Perman
Mark Taylor appeared to be a slightly more complicated fellow. Stocky with a compact frame, his bald head gave him something of the look of a character in a 1940s gangster movie. Depending on the view one took, he was either a simpering sycophant tethered to the skirts of his mother-in-law (who fanned his ambitions for her personal gain) or was nakedly determined in his own right, short on intellect but long on cunning and street smarts. Then again, he may have just been a hardworking guy who got incredibly lucky.
Married to Traci Perkins, Taylor considered himself Guy’s son-in-law and “virtually an apprentice” to Rich Snyder. Indeed, Rich was said to have respected him as a manager. In court filings, Taylor detailed his own lengthy association with the Snyder family and his rise to the top at In-N-Out from his start in 1984, to becoming a store manager, to being made manager of operations in 1998. In 1999, he was named successor cotrustee to the family trusts, and in 2001 he was named to the board of directors. As he was working his way up through the ranks to become a vice president, Taylor asserted that he had become intimately familiar with the company’s culture and traditions and a variety of roles in operations as well as the family trusts.
Upon his ascent, Taylor moved into Guy Snyder’s five-bedroom, six-bathroom Glendora house. Apparently, Taylor purchased the Mediterranean-style property under market price after Guy’s death and set about implementing an extensive remodel. Even among the neighborhood’s other outsized homes, the remodeled Taylor estate was impressive. High in the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains, the house occupied an entire corner lot. The property, dotted by palm trees, had a large, circular brick driveway with a stone, Spanish-style fountain similar to the one in front of the San Gabriel Mission. The enormous entryway looked like the portico of an old Spanish hacienda; there were wrought iron lanterns and perfectly clipped lawns. The renovation and landscaping were so all-encompassing that they required entitlement approval from the city.
Boyd later claimed that Taylor’s remodeling project cost $2 million and that he used In-N-Out vendors, suppliers, and employees to perform the work and improvements either at a reduced rate or without any compensation. In some cases, Boyd charged, Taylor billed In-N-Out for the work. At the same time, Boyd asserted that Taylor had $160,000 worth of landscaping charged to an In-N-Out construction project. When Boyd found out, he informed the company’s other executives, who then pressed In-N-Out to “loan the money to Taylor” for the services. Among company executives, apparently the practice of using In-N-Out’s contracters was said to be fairly commonplace.
According to Boyd’s filings, Taylor was a “lackluster manager.” Little more than a “rubber stamp” cotrustee when it came to dealing with the complicated matters of the family trusts, Boyd claimed that Taylor deferred or largely delegated his trust-related responsibilities to Boyd. Taylor rarely read documents or reports, Boyd claimed, and attended meetings of the cotrustees with little or no preparation. Boyd expressed grave concern over Taylor’s ability to administer the trust going forward. He charged that Taylor never thoroughly read or examined the secured promissory note for $147,153,441.23 or the pledge agreement that allowed the trusts to borrow money from the company to pay off Guy’s estate taxes; that in fact, he “only signed those documents after Boyd and the Trust advisors approved them.” If Boyd were removed as cotrustee, he contended, “funds might not be set aside to repay the note.”
Boyd insisted that Taylor’s ambitions overshadowed his abilities. Furthermore, he claimed that he wasn’t alone in this assessment; before he died, Guy Snyder made it clear that he didn’t think Taylor should be promoted above the level of operations manager and should certainly not be made head of the company. Boyd asserted that Guy considered his former son-in-law “too ambitious and insufficiently talented to lead In-N-Out.”
In his own court filings, Taylor denied Boyd’s allegations. In the end, Esther would have the last word.
CHAPTER 24
It wasn’t long before the battle was splashed across the pages of newspapers and magazines across the country. At In-N-Out corporate headquarters in Irvine, the inner circle fumed over what they called a “relentless publicity campaign designed to invoke the media in Boyd’s war” against Lynsi. There was no shortage of coverage. “In-N-Out Lawsuit Exposes Family Rift,” blared the Los Angeles Times. Three thousand miles away from the nearest In-N-Out, the Washington Post soberly weighed in with “Iconic In-N-Out Battles Executive over Firm’s Direction.”
The lawsuits promised to reveal not just a glimpse, but a bird’s eye view into the company that had spent its entire existence largely spurning publicity. There was a great deal of public curiosity about the situation. It wasn’t just that In-N-Out stood apart from the entire fast-food industry; in a time of rampant corporate malfeasance (Enron, Tyco, WorldCom), In-N-Out represented the integrity of a different era. Perhaps more than anything, In-N-Out had been around for so long that many seemed to feel that they had a personal stake in the events taking place far from public view. The burger chain occupied a particular place in the cultural imagination of Southern California, and it seemed to influence the country’s perception of Southern California as well.
On January 18, 2006, when the U.S. Agency for International Development released a report depicting the security situation in Iraq as dire, amounting to a “social breakdown,” concern over In-N-Out’s future ranked high on the editorial pages of the Los Angeles Times. The chain was a “state treasure,” the paper opined, “one worth preserving.” Less than a month later, writer Joe Christiano dissected the corporate squabbling at the burger chain in the paper’s Sunday magazine. “The whole thing seems sordid, ugly and, worst of all, familiar,” he wrote. “It stinks of a monopolizing American greed that won’t be satisfied with local success; it must be national, it must be global, it must be viral. Remember King Midas? Everything he touched turned to golden arches.” Lamenting the possibility of a national rollout, he asked, “Will it still be ours if its bright yellow arrow points east?”
If outsiders were shocked by the allegations that threatened to destroy one of California’s most beloved and iconic brands, jeopardizing its old-fashioned service, made-to-order burgers, and limited growth in favor of, well, just plain greed, the residents of Baldwin Park were absolutely horrified. Despite the myriad socioeconomic changes that had touched Baldwin Park, it still retained something of a small-town feel—especially among the “old-timers.” Baldwin Park residents had long viewed the Snyder family as their own; numerous locals had worked at the chain over the years. An entire glass case in the Baldwin Park Historical Society displayed In-N-Out ephemera (wooden tokens, paper hats) alongside war veterans’ uniforms, flappers’ costumes, and relics of the native Gabrieleno Indians. In one way or another, at least three generations at Baldwin Park had been touched by the Snyder family.
Many seemed disturbed by the airing of the bitter feud. Others became protective and even angry, calling it a shame and hoping that the nasty business would just blow over. Those who knew both parties were particularly troubled by the accusations being lobbed. “It’s not true!” later exclaimed one old family friend, who called the charges against Boyd a sham. “It’s just about the money.” Rich Snyder’s widow, Christina, was saddened by the whole thing. “Rich Boyd is my friend,” she later declared. “I’ve always believed in him.”
For a company that had for decades kept so quiet that most of its fans had never heard the name Snyder, the public display was loathsome. For the most part, In-N-Out had dealt with internal problems more or less the way it ran its business: quietly, efficiently, and—when the occasion called for it—through negotiation and backroom dealings. Litigation was settled quietly and quickly, often with settlements and nondisclosure agreements. The $380 million company did not have a complement of full-time publicists on hand to bury the story—or even to manage their side of it.
In the midst of the public haranguing, the burger chain turned to Sitrick and Company, a crisis management
and public relations outfit, for help. The Los Angeles–based firm operated under the motto: “If you don’t tell your story, someone else will tell it for you,” charging $695 an hour for what it liked to boast was its expertise in shaping news and public opinion. Sitrick’s list of clients was an insider’s guide to money, celebrity, power, and trouble. In the past, Sitrick’s associates (many of whom are former journalists) have helped to deflect negative public opinion from and burnish the images of the Catholic Archdiocese of Los Angeles during the pedophile scandal of 2001 as well as embattled talk show host Rush Limbaugh when he was charged with prescription pill fraud in 2006. In a lengthy Los Angeles magazine profile, the firm was described as a kind of “bull in the china shop” of public opinion with a “desire not only to engage in battle, but to annihilate opponents,” flooding its clients’ adversaries with negative publicity.
The firm convinced In-N-Out’s reluctant executives to talk to the media. On March 31, 2006, an article billed as a behind-the-scenes peek into the beloved burger chain appeared in the Orange County Register; a photograph of Esther sitting between Lynsi and Taylor accompanied it. Largely favorable, the piece described the chain’s smiling cashiers in their spotless uniforms, its stress on high pay, and its longtime emphasis on quality control. Mark Taylor was the company’s public face in the article, and during the lunchtime rush at store Number One in Baldwin Park, he demonstrated the chain’s promise to deliver made-to-order burgers by ordering off of the secret menu, briefly flustering an associate. Despite the overall high-sheen gloss, the piece did not ignore the elephant in the room: the pending lawsuits. In response to Boyd’s allegations, Taylor said, “It’s been painful to read stories that In-N-Out will be at every corner.”
There was of course another elephant in another courtroom: Esther Snyder.
She was central to the outcome of the ensuing dispute, and both sides asserted that Esther would support their claims. As she neared ninety, Esther’s physical health had been on the wane for quite some time. Mentally, she displayed great lucidity, but she also suffered from memory lapses. At times, she seemed downright bewildered. Diane Brewer remembered getting a call from Esther out of the blue in July 2005. Brewer lived in Esther’s hometown of Sorento, and was a member of the Free Methodist Church where Esther had worshipped as a child. Somehow, Esther heard that the church was being desanctified and shuttered. The news upset her greatly, and she tracked down Brewer. “I had to explain to her why it was closed. This is a real rural area, and there just weren’t enough people to keep it going. It was quite upsetting to her. She said, ‘Where am I going to go to church when I come visit?’ I tried to console her, but she seemed confused. I had a difficult time getting through to her. I would get off the phone with her and she’d call back a half an hour later and ask me the same question.”
As the trial date approached, everyone was acutely aware that Esther Snyder’s testimony could be crucial. The question was—for whom? Esther’s attorney bluntly told the Orange County Register that Esther would likely side with her granddaughter. Boyd, who charged that Lynsi and Taylor had over a period of years sidelined Esther, thought otherwise. Both sides produced evidence for their claims. Between January and April 2006, there was a confusing and dizzying array of documents (purportedly signed by Esther Snyder) expressing Esther’s support for the actions of Taylor and her granddaughter—as well as several stating the exact opposite.
In a notarized statement dated January 12, 2006, and signed by Esther, she asserted that after having been advised by her “trusted attorney for many years” of the numerous lawsuits filed by Richard Boyd against In-N-Out, her granddaughter, and other officers of the company, she was “sad and upset that Rich Boyd would attack the company, which I co-founded and which has treated him so well, and attack my family.” The statement supported Boyd’s termination from the company and his elimination from the family trusts. “I no longer have any trust or confidence in Mr. Boyd and wish to see him removed as quickly as possible from any role with In-N-Out Burger, with me or my family, or with my family’s trusts.”
Eleven days later, on January 23, Boyd’s attorneys secured a signed declaration from Esther refuting many of In-N-Out’s assertions. Among them, she stated that she did not “want Rich to resign or be removed from any position.” Further, she declared that she did not believe that Boyd “would ever betray me, my family, or my company.” While expressing shock that criminal charges were filed against Boyd, she also maintained that she “never gave anyone permission to investigate Rich,” and insisted that “Mark Taylor does not speak for me…I do not want Mark Taylor to run the company.” Finally, she explained, “I may be in my eighties and sometimes a little forgetful, but I am very clear about what I want for the company and the statements I am making in this declaration.” On a hand-scribbled note, also signed by Esther and dated January 23, 2006, Esther instructed the company to install Bob Meserve, Harry’s nephew, to In-N-Out’s board of directors.
During this period, more than one person in contact with Esther maintained that she was frequently given documents to sign without knowing what she was endorsing with her signature.
The series of filings, declarations, and assertions continued apace. The suit was shaping up to be quite a courtroom show, potentially creating a face-off between grandmother and granddaughter. In February, Boyd moved to have Esther give a deposition. Not surprisingly, this proposal was vigorously contested; attorneys for In-N-Out and Esther Snyder fought strenuously to prevent her from being deposed on the grounds that she was too weak, and that the prospect of having to sit through hours of potentially stressful and grueling questioning would harm her further. Boyd’s lawyers offered to allow Esther to be deposed by videotape in her home. By the end of March, Boyd claimed that he had had a telephone conversation with Esther in which she indicated her willingness to be deposed. On April 20, however, Esther signed a declaration asserting the opposite.
There was no shortage of legal muscle-flexing. On April 13, James Morris, Esther’s attorney, filed a motion with the court to oppose compelling his client’s deposition. He submitted letters and signed declarations outlining the failing health of the In-N-Out matriarch to the Los Angeles Superior Court from two of her physicians, Dr. James P. Larsen, specializing in internal and geriatric medicine, and cardiologist Dr. Kenneth R. Jutzy. Esther’s weakened physical state, her doctors asserted, not only precluded her participation in a legal deposition but would cause her more pain and possibly even hasten her death.
A hearing was scheduled for April 26 to determine whether Esther could be deposed. As the date approached, Boyd’s defense appeared to gather some critical evidence that bolstered his position. Esther’s deposition could be crucial. On April 25, Esther’s niece Alice Meserve Manas signed a court declaration describing Esther as anything but happy at Boyd’s ouster and greatly agitated by what she was hearing about the activities going on at the corporate level. During a recent visit with her aunt, Manas stated that Esther “expressed to me her dismay that the company was not being run by ‘family’ and actually expressed her anger that Mark Taylor was involved at all, because he is not a member of the Snyder family.” During a lengthy phone conversation between the two on April 20, 2006, Manas said that Esther told her that she had “no memory of firing Richard Boyd for cause and indicated that she would never do that—that Richard Boyd was the one she wanted to be involved with the business and the trusts.” After Manas expressed her thoughts that Taylor seemed to be running the company by himself, Esther became upset and told her niece that Mark Taylor was not the “big cheese, he just thinks he’s the big cheese, but he’s not the big cheese.”
According to Manas, the two women discussed Esther’s upcoming deposition. Although she didn’t take to the idea of being videotaped, Esther indicated her willingness to be deposed. And she quashed any notion that she was too ill to do so. “She has trouble getting around,” Manas explained, “but she can certainly talk.” Manas herself see
med perplexed when she heard about her aunt’s signed declaration on April 20, which stated that Esther did not want to submit to a deposition. That, said Manas, was “in direct conflict to what she stated to me.” Manas herself seemed agitated. “I am uncertain as to exactly why her voice is being silenced,” she exclaimed. “Isn’t she entitled to at least express her thoughts, whatever they may be, whatever she can remember?”
The shock seemed to reverberate in several corners. More than one person indicated that inside of the company, it was Richard Boyd whom Esther trusted implicitly. Indeed, in addition to being named to the board and as a cotrustee of the family trusts, Boyd claimed in his court filings that in 2004 he had been named as the coexecutor of Esther’s will and as a coconservator in the event that she needed one appointed.
At the eleventh hour, Boyd’s legal team produced a potentially damning piece of evidence: a transcript of a thirty-four-minute recorded telephone conversation between Esther Snyder and Elisa Boyd, Richard’s wife, recorded after Esther telephoned the Boyds’ West Covina home. The call came at about 5:00 p.m. on April 25, 2006. It happened to be one day before a judge was to decide on whether to compel Esther to be deposed.
Throughout the conversation, Elisa Boyd pressed Esther as to her understanding of what exactly was going on between her husband, Lynsi, Mark, and In-N-Out Burger. Esther seemed startled by the accusations against Boyd. “I can’t do without Rich…. I can’t do without Rich Boyd, can I?” she says at one point. When Elisa informed her that guards refused to let Boyd enter her house, Esther reacted with equal surprise. “They don’t tell me when there’s a board meeting,” she exclaimed. And Esther made it clear that she didn’t want Mark Taylor running the company. Taylor, she said, “wishes I was dead.”