Monday, January 29, 2007

My Dear Old Mammon

I stumbled across this posting on footnoted.org about Edward Carr's series of articles on executive pay in The Economist and became intrigued enough to go to the source (and the source's source).

Like fn.org, I also found Mr. Carr's justification of high pay as some sort of emotional salve to encourage risk-taking by executives rather dubious. First of all, senior executive positions (especially that of CEO) carry all sorts of non-pecuniary rewards that in my experience carry at least as much weight as greenbacks. These include fancy titles, corporate jets, personal tax planners, and curvaceous journalists breathlessly hanging on your every word. (Well, perhaps the last only if you're Jack Welch or Todd Thomson.)

Secondly, I think the evidence we have seen of backdated option grants, "pay for pulse," and incentive hurdles set low enough for your average turtle to clear with ease argues rather strenuously that most executive compensation schemes have been anything but geared towards risk-taking behavior. Perhaps in private equity land Mr. Carr's formulation holds, but at least there the penalty for underperformance is summary firing and forfeiture of most of your incentive comp. In public corporation land, it is usually cause for immediate vesting of shares, options, and pension plans and a free one-way ride on the corporate jet to Boca.

Apparently without noticing, Mr. Carr does touch on the central issue underlying the public debate on executive pay. He writes:
Between 1993 and 2003 the total pay of the top five executives in the Standard & Poor's 1,500, which accounts for roughly 80% of listed American companies by value, amounted to some $350 billion, according to Lucian Bebchuk and Yaniv Grinstein, of Harvard and Cornell Universities. The share of earnings consumed by those people's pay rose from 5.2% in the first five years of that period to 8.1% in the second five. And this is without counting the value of pensions, which can boost the total by as much as a third.

Looking to the original article by Bebchuk and Grinstein, the time series is even more dramatic: the top five executives' share of corporate earnings jumped from 5.0% in the 1993-1995 period to 9.8% in the 2001-2003 span. I don't know about you, Dear Reader, but my immediate reaction to that little statistic is "Who ordered that?"

Who decided that senior executives' share of the earnings pie should double over the last decade? The last time I checked, the quality and efficacy of CEOs and their ilk has not changed much since 1993, so I doubt they have gotten twice as effective at growing earnings. You could say their pay has gone up so much because the market value of their companies grew so much (the S&P 500 rose 109% over the period), but that implies we should pay them not only for building company earnings—which are at least nominally under their control—but also for general multiple inflation in the equity market.

Mr. Carr as much as implies that:

The lion's share of the executives' bonanza was deserved—in the sense that shareholders got value for the money they handed over. Those sums on the whole bought and motivated the talent that managed businesses during the recent golden age of productivity growth and profits. Many managers have done extremely well over the past few years; but so, too, have most shareholders.

Call me a skeptic, but managing a company in a "golden age of productivity growth" with the equity market wind at your back sounds like a pretty cushy ticket. Furthermore, correlation does not prove causation. The point is not that shareholders have not benefited from the rising tide that has floated all boats, but that we seem to have been paying the captain and crew extra just because the tide came in.

You could say, as some have, that senior executives' shares of corporate earnings were too low at the beginning of the 1990s, and they should be paid with more equity to align their personal financial interests more with those of the shareholders. (This was a popular argument last century among what we used to call "Old Economy" CEOs, as they watched jeans- and sneaker-clad dot.com arrivistes buy basketball teams and leapfrog the waiting lists at their country clubs.) This argument collapses in the face of evidence that Boards of Directors just piled this new equity on top of existing cash compensation and kept increasing the cash anyway. Plus you have the little issue of option backdating, reloading, repricing, etc., which took all the downside (or at least "non-upside") risk out of the equity comp equation.

Look, the issue is pretty clear: fairness. People are not upset about Robert Nardelli's $210 million goodbye kiss from Home Depot because he failed to raise earnings. In fact, he did a pretty good job at that. What steams Joe Shareholder is that he sashayed away with wheelbarrows full of cash while creating—adjusting for inflation and the price of corn—exactly bupkus in the way of shareholder value. I mean, why should we pay this knucklehead 200 million bucks when HD shares flatlined while he was driving the bus?

Americans aren't dumb. We get it. In fact, most of us are more than happy to create gazillionaires out of sharp, aggressive leaders who can create wealth and jobs for the rest of us. They just have to deliver on their side of the bargain.

© 2007 The Epicurean Dealmaker. All rights reserved.

Thursday, January 25, 2007

Cognitive Dissonance

Yoo hooo... Mr. CEOPrivate equity is a tough racket.

Oh sure, everybody on the planet is simultaneously bemoaning the fact that PE is taking over the world and desperately trying to get a piece of the action, but still, it’s a tough racket. Unless you can swan your way through the World Economic Forum at Davos like one of the private equity plutocrats, your day-to-day life is no cakewalk. Yes, yes, we know that your firm No-Name-Middle-Market-Commodity Fund LLC has posted compound annual returns in excess of 98% since Noah crash-landed the Ark, but it’s hard to get the respect and attention you deserve with so many players on the field. More private equity deals are being done than ever before, yet it’s difficult to find good companies to invest in.

So, what do you do? You market yourself.

Now, as apparent punishment for my many sins, one of my jobs as an M&A intermediary is to periodically visit private equity shops to press the flesh and learn about their investment interests, styles, and preferences, so I am on the receiving end of a lot of this marketing. Let me make a small observation: most of you are doing it all wrong.

Mistake number one: In my experience, when it comes to investing in companies, most financial sponsors talk like girls but act like guys.

Most of the financial sponsors I talk to give highly specific criteria for the kinds of companies they are willing to invest in: minimum revenues, earnings, industry verticals, growth opportunities, etc., etc. When I sit in their richly paneled conference rooms listening to their pitch, it usually sounds exactly like the kind of comprehensive checklist some women use to screen potential husbands. You know: tall, handsome, rich, charming, exciting, good in bed, understanding, likes kids, etc. And just as unrealistic.1

On the other hand, when it comes to the mating game, men are famous for being far less discriminating. Likewise, notwithstanding their stated criteria, a lot of private equity firms end up investing in almost any company they can persuade to say yes. This is not a bad thing—it supports me and myriad other middlemen—but it does show up the gap between what financial sponsors say and what they do.

Mistake number two: The part of the conversation with a financial sponsor that I dread the most is when they start talking about how they “differentiate” themselves. Apparently, they all received the same PE trade group memo explaining that financial sponsors are no longer just financial engineers. Now, they “add value” by improving operations at their portfolio companies. They airlift a star-spangled SWAT team of The 25 Best Corporate Managers in America into each and every due diligence session and Board meeting. They employ a crack brigade of ex-GE Vice Presidents and former Navy Seals to scour expense reports for surplus paper clips. It’s not just about leverage anymore: “[Your private equity firm name here] makes companies better.”

The first time I heard this, I was suitably impressed. Now, when the 547th financial sponsor I have met trots out the same damn story, I find I struggle to suppress a yawn or a belly laugh. This is true even though I know I should feel intimidated by the 23-year old Associate with a net worth greater than the GDP of Botswana sitting across the table from me.

Now the average public company executive with undamaged temporal lobes can figure this out just as well as I can. As someone who works with corporate managers on a regular basis, let me give the three PE guys still reading this a clue as to how potential future portfolio company managers really view financial sponsors: They think most of them are assholes, and a few (maybe you?) are not.

This is the real secret of getting attractive companies to sell to you: it’s all about chemistry. Personal chemistry between the target company’s managers and the financial sponsor deal guys. If they like you, they’ll bend over backward to make a deal happen with your firm, and if they don’t, they won’t. It’s as simple as that.

Of course, ex-post facto corporate managers will always justify their decision with some flimsy rationalization like “Those guys at Skinem, Ripem and Rapem LLC really understand our company / industry / need for six corporate jets,” but don’t you believe it. They just like you. (Well, you and your money.)

The beauty of all this, of course, is that being an asshole is completely in the eyes of the beholder. The PE guy who seems like Typhoid Mary to one management team will look like Mother Theresa to another. In part, this is because—News Flash!—corporate America is full of assholes, too. Like you, they come in all different shapes and sizes, and I can guarantee you that somewhere out there is a public company CEO who thinks you look exactly like Gisele Bündchen.

So, do not despair, Dear Private Equity Reader: one day, your Prince will come.


1 Fortunately for the continuance of the human race, when it comes right down to it most women end up settling for some relatively average guy with a slight paunch, cute dimples, and a nascent bald spot, not Leonardo DiCaprio. Which is just fine, since not too many women qualify as Gisele Bündchen, either. (Besides, even Leo and Gisele couldn’t keep it together.)

© 2007 The Epicurean Dealmaker. All rights reserved.

Saturday, January 20, 2007

Amakudari1

That's it. I'm starting a hedge fund.

breakingviews.com reports in the Wall Street Journal today that former Secretary of State Madeleine Albright is starting her own emerging markets hedge fund, Albright Capital Management. Now, I am a great admirer of Ms Albright, feisty little spark plug that she is, and I have no doubt that she pins the needle in the IQ department. But a hedge fund? Come on.

I guess she took inspiration from the actions of other prominent government officials who have recently joined the Dark Side of the Force: former Treasury Secretary (and slightly bruised Harvard Dean) Larry Summers, off to D.E. Shaw, and former Secretary of the Treasury and railroadin' man John Snow, movin' on up to Cerberus Capital. I might quibble with the implied analogy a little by noting that Messrs. Summers and Snow at least have PhDs in Economics, whereas I am ignorant of Ms Albright's economic credentials. Would I want any of them investing my kids' college funds? I don't think so.

It gives me hope, though, that I still have a chance of riding the hedge fund wave, even after the Amaranth blowup and the pathetic underperformance turned in by those supposed Masters of the Universe at Goldman Sachs' hedge fund, Global Alpha. I mean, if a Dutch pension fund can give $330 million to an untested new hedge fund co-founded by Madeleine, a few other State Department weenies, and the former head of the EPA (!), how many spondulics can I wheedle out of the naive and unsuspecting? I'm guessing gazillions, at least.

So, get ready to send in your checks and money orders ($1 million minimum), Dear Readers Investors. I'll let you know when my lawyers have drafted the documents. In the meantime, I am looking for name suggestions. It seems that all the obscure Greek and Latin mythological terms have already been taken.

How about "The TED Fund?"

1 "Descent from heaven." Before Prime Minister Koizumi banned it in 2002, high-ranking officials would often leave government service for cushy jobs in corporate Japan. In its current incarnation in the US, it just seems like the descent is a little further down. "Cerberus" indeed.

© 2007 The Epicurean Dealmaker. All rights reserved.

Ding Dong

I was rummaging through some old files yesterday and came across an interesting tidbit from a private equity conference I attended in the Fall of 2005. As is usual in such confabs, Sam Zell, founder and Chairman of office REIT Equity Office Properties Trust (and a very successful man), was invited to talk about the "secrets" to his success. He said a great many interesting things, but one interested me so much I wrote it down verbatim in my notes.

Before I hit you with the punchline, however, a brief review of the current situation would help. You may recall that private equity hegemon Blackstone Group announced last November that it was buying EOP for $48.50 per share, or $36 billion all-in. REITs are not volatile things, and commercial real estate has been on a tear, but Blackstone's offer represents a rich 5.9% cap rate and 16.9 times forecast 2007 EBITDA. The proposed deal structure includes $29.6 billion of debt, a $3.2 billion equity check from Blackstone, and—most interestingly for our readers—a $3.5 billion equity bridge from Blackstone's bankers and financiers, Bank of America, Bear Stearns, and Goldman Sachs.

Now, it is fair to say that investment banks have until recently been very leery of anything remotely resembling a bridge, ever since First Boston's near-death experience from a bridge loan for Ohio Mattress (affectionately known as the "Burning Bed"), issued just in front of the great Junk Bond Meltdown of the late 80s. Things are different this time, apparently. As the private equity juggernaut has rolled on in recent years, banks like these have gotten increasingly desperate to share in the lucrative financing fees associated with LBOs and increasingly envious of the apparently limitless simoleons their PE clients have been lighting their cigars and papering their bird cages with. Bridge loans are now routine, and I guess it should not surprise anyone that we have finally seen a multi-billion dollar equity bridge cantilevered out over the abyss, teetering on the twin pillars of Hope and Greed. In this case, the bridging banks do not even have any voting rights, and Blackstone has a six month exclusive window to syndicate the bridged equity to nice, compliant junior partners. Sweet.

Of course, the final story on EOP's buyout is not yet written, since a consortium led by Vornado and Starwood Capital has lobbed in a competing offer at $52.00 per share ($37.6 billion). If consummated at that price, this would make EOP the largest LBO ever. Sam Zell, the archetypal value investor, must be giggling into his funky Abe Lincoln beard.

Which brings me back to Sam's remark from a little over a year ago. He said—and I quote:
"You have to understand that if Wall Street was smart, I couldn't be rich."

Sam Zell is seriously rich, Dear Reader, showing up at #52 in Forbes' 400 list with an estimated net worth of $4.5 billion.

Is that a bell I hear, ringing?

© 2007 The Epicurean Dealmaker. All rights reserved.

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Affirmative Action

MEMORANDUM

To: Joe Gregory

From: Dick Fuld

Re: The Latest Investment-Banking Bonus: A Life

Dear Joe -- What the $%@#!* is this?! I leave on a little ski vacation for a week, and Lehman Brothers goes to hell in a handbasket! I mean, jeez, we're the lead story in this $%@#!*ing abomination. I'll never live this down at the Maidstone Club.

"Encore?" What kind of a dumbass name for a program is that? I didn't even know we had a $%@#!*ing "Chief Diversity Officer." Did you hire her when I was out of town?

And you! I can only hope you were misquoted in this article. "We can be the best company only if we get and keep the best people." Since when is that? In my day, we didn't give a $%@#!* whether we kept any of those sniveling little Analysts and Associates in the Firm after we had used them up. And, the last time I looked, those were the only guys working 100 hours a week. Kleenex, I say. Why change over 30 years of industry practice just because some weenie in HR claims we need to boost our "diversity?"

I better get some answers, and quick. My Gulfstream leaves from Gstaad tomorrow morning at 10:00 am Swiss time. I expect you, this Anne Emi person, and every other $%@#!*ing Department Head in the Firm on a $%@#!*ing conference call to discuss this at 9:00 am Swiss time (3:00 am Eastern) so we can figure out how to extract ourselves from this $%@#!*pile.

Wake up my Assistant so she call plug me into the call, too.

Dick

© 2007 The Epicurean Dealmaker. All rights reserved.