We taxied over to the FBO, parked, and requested fuel. As I finished filling out the form, Julie threw her arms around my waist and hugged me from the rear. I expected her to say somethings but she didn’t. We strolled hand in hand a short distance past the office. The whine of jet turbines filled our ears.
I turned her to me. “I’ve never felt as close to anyone in my life.”
She stepped back and locked her eyes on mine. “You’ve never met anyone like me before, Henry. And you never will again. But I worry what will happen to you once you get back to New York,’ she said. “They beat you up pretty bad. Even an ego like yours can take only so much.”
“Julie, I could stay a few more days.”
Her face brightened for a moment, then clouded, “I must get back to teaching my little fledglings.” She impressed her sweetness on my lips. “Henry, send me a letter from time to time. If the spirit moves you. I'll try to decipher what you’re trying to say.”
I shook my head. “I can’t take any more compliments. My ego’s getting too big to fit into the plane.”
“Turn around,” she commanded the line boy when we had walked back to the plane. “This is not for you.” She drew her lips across mine, placed her hands on my rear, and pulled herself ever so tightly to me. “Remember me when you’re back with all those city women,” she said.
“Come to New York,” I pleaded. “Then you won’t have to worry.”
Before we departed Ketchikan, a fax had arrived from the office. It said to call in Sunday, that Ari and Ken would be in the office. Now I slipped into a phone booth while Julie talked to a weather briefer in the pilot’s lounge.
Ken answered and put me on the speakerphone. “What a loyal bunch. Working on Sunday,” I said. “I guess It takes extra time to count all the rent money.”
“Sounds like you’re feeling good, Henry,” Ken said, a certain tightness In his voice. “Climb any big mountains?”
I Ignored the sarcasm. “Right now New York seems like a bad dream. The Canadian Northwest and Alaska are incredible. Should I stay?”
“Only if you can find a decent job,’ Ken said. “This operation is not what it was, Henry. When a company shrinks the way we’ve had to —”
‘What exactly are you saying?”
“Cash flow. Sludge. Plus tax problems. The sales of those buildings. The recapture of the depreciation we took over the years. Understand?”
“Ari, I don’t want to talk to him anymore. How are you holding up? And what messages did I get?”
“I'll tell you this, boss,’ he answered. “I’ve been spending so much time here, Edith pulled out my old sleeping bag and dropped it next to the front door.” His voice was firm. “I’m just telling you. Maybe I have to think about another position. She’s worried about our future.”
“Hang on,’ I said. “Look, you’ve been on the firing line too long without a break. Plan to take a week off, okay?” I had to think fast. “I’ve got some new ideas I want to share with all of you.” My VP of finance didn’t respond. “Things will work out.”
I glanced around to see Julie smiling, her thumbs up — the weather ahead was forecast to be good.
“How bad is our cash situation?”
“Don’t ask,” Ari said. “Your messages — your mother, and your women, of course. That’s plural. One I think I recognized. She said she’d call again. You want the others?”
“HI call my mother from here. The others I’ll take care of when I get back. Did Steve call?”
“No. Cal has additional termination papers for you to sign. Oh, about the cash situation. Our lead banks are demanding the balance of our loans be paid off, or at least they insist on a firm reduction schedule. I put them off, saying you’d be back this week.”
“Good. I’m in Seattle. Well meet the minute I return.”
With the normal west-to-east tailwinds, I selected 26,000 feet for the leg from Seattle to Missoula, Montana. Once again I was able to fly above the weather. Our flight path took us across the Cascade Mountains on a line over most of Washington State, across a piece of Idaho, and over Montana. Through breaks in the clouds, we were afforded extraordinary views of rugged ranges, rolling hills sown with wheat, cattle ranches that stretched for miles, and small towns.
At one point I turned to Julie. “How come you and Len never thought of beefing up your business by acquiring a big twin or a jet? There must be companies that need to fly places from Wausau.” She glanced at me. “I realize,” I continued, “that it would be an expensive operation, but planes can be leased, you know. Or get a partner who wants some use of the plane plus the benefits of depreciation and write-offs,’
She nodded. “Once upon a time, we were thinking seriously about doing just that. I decided against it. I don’t know, I had this long conversation with myself, and …” she trailed off.
“And?”
“It would have meant a very heavy commitment of time. All our resources would have been on the line. Yes, it would have been terrific to have a jet. It wasn’t so much the risk, but the loss of what I decided was more important to me.”
“Which is?”
“This may be difficult for a man like you to understand. I treasure my freedom above making money and having, in this case, a jet. I cherish having time not to have to attend to too many things. Call it lazy.”
“But think of the opportunity,” I said, ignoring her reasons. “You could build up your operation, hire people. Better, lease a second jet after you lined up enough business. A whole bunch of ways to expand and have more free time.”
“Henry, this little Indian maiden is comfortable with where she is. IVe come a long way, thanks to Mom, Len, and Aunt Nadine. Not having to chase rainbows. No, wrong. Maybe chasing rainbows, but not material ones.”
She tugged on my arm. “You and I are very different.”
I shook my head, as if admitting defeat. “Maybe we are. Maybe we are.”
The next day, when we were in range, Julie called Wausau Unicorn. Len sounded elated. “Hey, I'll get Aunt Nadine. She'll want to be here when you guys land. We received our ration of Hammerschlanger’s. Some dude from Chicago bought the deli. Wanted to get started on the right foot.”
It was a joyous welcome; we had gifts for Len and Nadine. Julie suggested I stay at the Best Western. “Don’t be upset about not staying in my room. I'll be with you, of course, at the motel. You know. Aunt Nadine.”
Julie and Sirius drove me to the motel. I checked in, stowed my bags in the room, then walked the one flight down to the lobby, where Julie and Sirius were waiting under the NO PETS ALLOWED sign.
“I was thinking about something,” Julie said as we pulled out of the motel parking lot.
“Shoot.”
“I don’t know much about the kind of real estate you do, but Fm not short on common sense,” she said. “So you built that big monument in Manhattan, you and your brother. You overreached, didn’t you? And so you lost it.” She put her hand on mine. “Perhaps in future deals, you’d be better off having someone else put in the dough. Better to own a smaller portion than bet the entire spread, no?” she asked.
I ran my hand over my chin, and shook my head.
“Listen to me before you discard my suggestion.”
“It just wouldn’t work.”
“Why not? You don’t always have to take such enormous risks, do you?”
“If I did what you suggest,” I said, “I wouldn’t be able to keep control.”
“But it seems to me you should protect yourself a lot better when you set up your deals.” She patted my head gently — much the way she patted Sirius, I noted.
“Julie, I appreciate your concern, I really do. Maybe I just don’t want to think of al that right now. God knows, I’ll have to face it soon enough.”
When we were almost to her house, I turned to her. “Do me a favor tonight, will you Julie?”
“What?”
“Please don’t have more than two drinks —”
<
br /> “Why not?”
“Damn it, you know what I mean. When you have too much to drink you lose control.”
“I know what you really want, Martin. You want to control me.”
I looked over at her. “Now who’s blocking out what she doesn’t want to hear?”
“Mind your own goddamn business, Martin. Okay?” Suddenly I wasn’t looking forward to tonight’s dinner.
But dinner turned out to be delightful. Everyone was in a good mood. Aunt Nadine and Len were pleased to have us back. And we found ourselves going on and on about the exotic highlights of the week.
“Grizzlies don’t work. Seems they have a union,” Julie said. “Anyway, we saw these two grizzlies out ambling around. No worries. No hurry. Just out ambling.”
“Henry said you saw whales,” Len said.
“One whale,” Julie said, laughing. “Sometimes Henry sees double. Or quadruple.”
“But what a whale,” I countered. “Ninety tons of grace and beauty.”
I had been watching Julie, afraid she might overreact to my admonition about her drinking, but she had only two drinks all evening.
On our way back to the motel, I thanked her for a great dinner.
“I didn’t do a thing, except drink.”
“Sparingly,” I said.
“I’m not an alcoholic, Henry.”
“I know you’re not an alcoholic,” I said softly. “It’s the combination of flying and alcohol that worries me. Not the alcohol itself.” But I know I only half believed that.
“Henry,” she said, “do you trust me?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then stop worrying,” she said. “Save your worries for New York.”
Part 3
But if the wicked turn from all his sins that he hath committed … and do that which is lawful and right he shall surely live …
Ezekiel xviii
1
WHEN I arrived in New York, spring was producing a glittering display of bud and bloom.
Ken, Ari, and Cal had done a good job. Addressing the financial realities, they had sold buildings and land, negotiated workouts with subcontractors and other trade merchants, and worked out settlements with the banks.
We weren’t flat broke. My team had downsized the staff, renegotiated our office space lease, moved into smaller quarters. They had even cut their own salaries and fees.
“Coffee, anyone?” I asked them in the new conference room. They shook their collective heads. “Let me begin by saying that I’m very grateful for your efforts and performance. Even though we've been reduced to a shell of what we were. Let me lay out where we go from here.” I took a few sips of coffee, and fixed them with my gaze, one by one. “We will resurrect this company of ours. Well restore it to its full potential and power — the two big Ps. Re-create ourselves. Bigger. Smarter.”
They glanced at one other, then at me. Ken broke the silence. “How will we manage that, Henry? Where’s the fresh equity capital coming from? You’re not forgetting we’re just about wiped out? And, if you haven’t already heard, Federated sold Three-Fifty-Five in a package to a group composed of Amalgamated and two partners.”
“I’m not really surprised, Ken. That’s what lenders are doing with buildings they have to take back. As for our company, we’re leaner and a lot sharper. Phoenix from the ashes. My timing was off, that’s all."
“No, Henry, that isn’t all,” Cal said. He waited a moment, and then said carefully, “I realize that what I’m going to say you’re not going to like.” He cleared his throat, then took a deep breath. “You got into trouble because you refused to recognize certain basic realities, Henry. You thought you were clever enough to overcome anything put in your way. If you still think that way, you’ll just do it all over again.”
“You talking about ego, Cal?” I asked.
“To be blunt, yes.”
I stood up, walked around to where Cal was sitting, and put my hands on his shoulders. “I’m not getting into a discussion about my ego. But let me remind you that without that ego, we’d be where most of the world is — nowhere.”
“We know that,” Ken said. ‘What Cal is saying is we got into deep shit because we — you — went too far.”
“All right. I recognize the buck stops with me. But I also believe we can resurrect this company. And I do see things differently.” I circled the room. Something symbolic about that. “I told you what’s on the table. If you want to be part of the future with me, this is the time to declare.”
I didn’t wait for answers. “Here’s my offer — fifteen percent, without any investment on your part. Five percent each. What do you say?”
All three nodded. But then, almost as a chorus: “But where do we find the capital, Henry? Can’t rebuild out of hope and thin air. Where, Henry?”
Where?
I made calls to several out-of-town banks, all of which at one time had solicited business from us. None would give me the time of day. Almost all of my personal wealth was tied to the values of my properties. My hideaway pad in the Village had been sold, as had my helicopter. I had reluctantly let Craig Sampson go. I retained the plane and my townhouse, deciding I could keep them, at least for the moment. My father had left my mother enough to live on comfortably. I quickly dismissed any thought of asking her for a loan. But “Where, Henry, where?” kept echoing in my mind.
A few competitors had raised money on Wall Street through a real estate investment trust, selling portions of their companies to the public, thereby eliminating financing from banks and paying off their mortgages. A REIT also provided money for acquisitions. But the current net assets of The Martin Companies precluded that possibility. Conventional mortgages? Conventional mortgage lenders were getting scorched and were uninterested in refinancings or making new loans. The idea of spec developing was about as unattractive as shaking hands with an angry water buffalo. That kind of real estate wasn’t possible anymore. What kind of real estate was?
I kept telling myself that at least we were still in business, but that was increasingly becoming cold comfort. And I needed a little warmth sometime soon.
Julie and I talked at length almost every morning or night. She missed me, she said, was enjoying her students, was back to jogging. The late spring weather was magnificent, flowers blanketing the pastures and hills, and the animals were busy acting out their spring rituals.
“When are you coming to New York?” I asked.
‘When are you coming to Wausau?”
Stalemate.
Joyce telephoned. I almost didn’t want to take the call. Family stuff? About Steve?
“Hi, Joyce. Good hearing from you.” Searching. “Ah, how’s the baby?”
Her voice was warm and embracing. I remembered how it could sound when she wanted it that way. “He’s a real handful, but great.”
“And Steve?”
“He’s fine. Getting settled in his new business.”
“And you?”
“It’s been a long time, Henry. I heard you were away. I’ve been concerned.”
“About the company or about me?”
She didn’t answer. Then, ‘Would you like to have lunch? Bleecker Street, off Spring.”
“I remember the place.”
“Thursday, if that’s okay. Will I still recognize you?” I told her I'd be wearing a chartreuse bowler and a violet carnation in my lapel. She laughed and said good-bye.
“Where, Henry, where?” I asked myself. Left, right, and center, looking for investors.
Mike Allen couldn’t help, although he really would have liked to. I met with a Delta Upsilon fraternity brother from Middlebury, Willard Jackson, a successful investment banker, and another classmate, Bruce Hiland, who was with Goldman Sachs. Both said bluntly neither domestic nor foreign investors were interested in real estate ventures. Some groups had put together vulture funds to buy distressed properties from banks that had taken back properties in foreclosures. And from the RTC, which had to take o
ver troubled assets from defaulting banks. Most of the nation’s largest developers were shedding whatever they could, simply to remain afloat. Many didn’t make it.
Some parties suggested I contribute a pool of my buildings and become part of a RE1T. I would be trading my properties for stock in a publicly owned company, thereby relinquishing control. The price would be based on a multiple of the net rents. Under certain circumstances, I might be required to personally guarantee the mortgages. In other words, end up with very little cash, especially after paying high transactional costs, legal and accounting, as well as other fees and commissions. Plus, at some point in time, have to pay huge capital gains taxes. No thanks.
More calls to Julie. I even wrote letters.
“Well, the real estate tycoon really can write an intelligible letter,” she teased. “Who would have guessed?”
“I did attend one of the better colleges,” I said.
“Did you learn anything?”
“Enough to tutor the coeds.”
“In human biology, right?”
“It wasn’t in math.”
“I thought you were good at figures.”
“Was,’ I said. “Was.” I paused. “Do you miss me enough for me to fly there for a long weekend?”
“Maybe in a week or two,’ she said after a moment’s silence. “I have a stomach virus. Seeing my doctor next week.”
“Sorry to hear that. You’re probably working too hard.”
“Flying’s not work. Work is what you do. Speaking of which, how’s business in the large tomato?”
“Big Apple.”
“Whatever.”
“It’s terrible, thank you. People with money don’t return my phone calls.”
“Is that why you call me?”
She added that the weekend I came out we could fly up to northern Michigan and stay at a nice place near the Straits of Mackinaw. Fun things to do and see, lots of art and culture. I told her we’d never make it out of our room.
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