Cerberus’ Recluse Lifts the Veil, a Little

Ladies and gentlemen, meet Stephen A. Feinberg (not pictured).

In his latest DealBook column, Andrew Ross Sorkin sits down for a chat with the founder of Cerberus Capital Management, in what is the reclusive private equity chieftain’s first in depth interview on the record.

What he finds is a soft-spoken, blue-collar billionaire — a man who seems at odds with Mr. Sorkin’s previous description of the cold and ruthless and dealmaker. While Mr. Feinberg is undeniably smart, he writes, he also showed both bashfulness and an almost apologetic mien for his firm’s public-relations missteps.

A Recluse Lifts the Veil a Little
By ANDREW ROSS SORKIN

Stephen A. Feinberg, the money man some hope will save Detroit, seemed almost apologetic. “I don’t blame anyone who doesn’t know me from thinking a lot of things,” said Mr. Feinberg, the reclusive founder of Cerberus Capital Management, the big buyout firm.

Given that his firm owns two of the nation’s most well-known companies, Chrysler and GMAC, the finance arm of General Motors, he acknowledges, “Our approach may have been a mistake with the public.”

Mr. Feinberg, a soft-spoken man with a mustache, was sitting in his Park Avenue office one evening recently. He seemed a bit anxious at first, and with reason: In his two decades on Wall Street he has never allowed himself to be interviewed in depth on the record, despite his enormous success. (He refused to be photographed for this column.)

His scorn for publicity is no secret. In February, he wrote a letter to his investors saying, “We despise all the public attention we are getting.”

That letter, which included a handful of other colorful comments that made him seem almost indifferent about the fate of the companies he owns, became fodder for the press and, in particular, a column I wrote suggesting he appeared “cold and ruthless.”

So it was with some surprise that a mutual friend of ours called recently to suggest that the two of us meet. “You guys should talk and get to know each other,” our friend said. “Maybe you’ll like him, maybe you won’t. No strings attached.”

And so on a Wednesday evening, I went to Mr. Feinberg’s office, which is almost threadbare compared with most of his peers’ temples of wood-paneled walls and platinum-plated bathroom fixtures.

The wall-to-wall carpet hasn’t been updated in years. The head of a massive elk, fixed on the wall, casts a cold eye on visitors (Mr. Feinberg shot the animal on one of his regular weekend hunting trips). An American flag, folded in a crisp triangle, according to honor guard protocol, rests on a window ledge (Mr. Feinberg was in the Reserve Officers Training Corps in college). And smack in the middle of his office sits an almost-life-size model motorcycle that resembles a Harley-Davidson. (He has a real one at home.)

Was I wrong about Mr. Feinberg? I might have been.

He is no Gordon Gekko. He doesn’t speak with an air of invincibility; he is soft-spoken and seems uncomfortable playing the role of a mogul. He looked as if he would be more comfortable in jeans and work boots than pinstripes and wingtips (he was wearing an off-the-rack blue suit). He lives in Manhattan, but says doing so is almost against his better judgment. “I wouldn’t mind living in a small town,” he said. He drives pickup trucks (a Dodge Ram 2500 and GMC 2500).

When you ask him about his self-described “disdain” for publicity, he says: “I’m embarrassed by it. I don’t think I deserve it. We have a lot to prove.” He said he’s not fearful of the press or criticism but he didn’t appreciate its impact on the firm’s companies.

All this might seem like a grand show — a bit of Wall Street performance art — except that everyone I know who has worked with him (even his fiercest rivals) say it is not a joke. And when you meet him, when he looks you in the eye, when he talks about his brother-in-law the police officer, he is so genuine it seems like an accident he is on Wall Street. He is the first blue-collar billionaire I’ve ever met — though he denies the billionaire part.

That is not to say he is a pushover. He started his career working at Drexel Burnham Lambert and then left in the late 1980s to play in the distressed-debt market, a rough-and-tumble corner of Wall Street more suited to street fighters than the country club set. Indeed, it is against that backdrop that he says Cerberus has gotten a reputation — one he says is undeserved — for having sharp elbows. “We think we’re fair,” he said, quickly adding, “I know I’m biased.”

Now he is plying his trade in the higher-profile private equity business, a clubby and often genteel industry. But he says the firm is doing what it has done all along: buying companies and turning them around.

Cerberus — named for the mythical three-headed dog that guards the entrance to the underworld — has spent the last 13 years building a bench of some 150 blue-chip operators, like Home Depot’s former chief, Robert L. Nardelli, who it installed to run Chrysler.

Mr. Feinberg has assembled an advisory council of top managers, similar to the way the Carlyle Group assembled politicians in the 1990s. Cerberus helped install Michael D. Capellas, the former chief executive of Compaq, into the top spot of MCI as part of its bankruptcy reorganization.

Within the private equity industry, Mr. Feinberg, 48, became an overnight sensation when his firm acquired both Chrysler and GMAC in under 12 months, at what seemed like the peak of the market.

For a brief honeymoon period, Cerberus was hailed as a possible savior of the American auto industry. But as the economy quickly soured, Wall Street became downright anxious about all that debt that was heaped upon Chrysler and GMAC to finance the deal. And in Detroit, employees have been shaken by continued announcements of layoffs; in November, Chrysler eliminated 11,000 hourly and salaried jobs in the United States and Canada on top of a plan last February to lay off 13,000.

Everything Mr. Feinberg said since has been scrutinized on Wall Street and in Detroit as if he were Britney Spears. Which brings us back to the letter he sent his investors. One sentence became a lightning rod. He wrote, “We do not need to be heroes to earn a good return on the investment in Chrysler.”

In retrospect, Mr. Feinberg said, “If I knew the letter would become public, I would have explained myself a lot better.” He said his investors knew exactly what he meant — that the firm can be successful without having to reinvent all of Detroit — but that outsiders might not understand. “I get it,” he said. “I totally understand where you are coming from.”

As for appearing cavalier, it wasn’t intentional and is the farthest thing from the truth, he said. “We have a national responsibility,” he said. “We can’t let ourselves fail.” He sounds as if he has the weight of the world on him. “We’re killing ourselves on it because of its importance.”

Mr. Feinberg, who grew up in Spring Valley, N.Y., the son of a steel salesman, went into an unprompted patriotic speech. “It’s important for American manufacturing not to disappear,” he said. “It has been a dream to have the opportunity to build these American companies.”

Still, he is nervous about the fragility of the economy and its impact on the businesses he has acquired. “I worry about a recession, even if we do things right,” he said. He frets that the market for packaging auto loans into securities — a process known as securitization — will shut down. Almost selflessly, he said he was less worried about Chrysler itself in that situation than he is about hundreds of dealerships. “We care about them, too.”

Two hours into our conversation, I’m still trying to square the circle of Mr. Feinberg. He is clearly, as one of his former colleagues described him, “wicked smart.” But he doesn’t act it. So I ask him about his experience at Princeton where he played on the tennis team, hardly the pedigree of an Average Joe.

“I probably would have been better off going to a state school,” he said. “I would have been more comfortable with the people.”

揭开博龙的神秘面纱

女士们、先生们，来看史蒂芬·费伯格（Stephen A. Feinberg）的最新专栏文章。

在最近的DealBook专栏文章中，安德鲁·罗斯·索尔金（Andrew Ross Sorkin）与这位博龙资产管理公司的创始人进行了深入地交流。

他所看到的是一个温文尔雅、兢兢业业的亿万富翁——一个与索尔金先生之前描述的冷酷、精明的生意人截然不同的形象。“但是费伯格先生的聪明无可置疑，”索尔金写到，“他甚至因为自己公司的不为人知而表现出了一些羞怯和甚至愧疚。”

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A Recluse Lifts the Veil a Little

冰山一角

安德鲁·罗斯·索尔金（Andrew Ross Sorkin）文

史蒂芬·费伯格被人看作是拯救美国汽车工业的人，但他看起来非常谦逊。“这是人们对我的误解。”低调的费伯格先生说到。他是大型投资公司博龙资产管理公司的创始人。

他的公司拥有两家全国知名的大公司，克莱斯勒（Chrysler）和通用汽车金融服务公司（GMAC，通用汽车的金融业务分公司），他承认，“我们处理公共关系的方法可能有错误。”

费伯格先生，一个留着小胡子的温文尔雅的男人，坐在他的大办公室里。起先他看起来有一点忧虑，因为在他的20年华尔街生涯里，他从来没有接受过如此深入的采访，尽管他的事业如此成功。（他拒绝本文提供照片）

他对在公众面前抛头露面的忌讳是众所周知的。今年2月份，他给投资人写了封信说到，“我们忽视了公众对我们的注意。”

这封加注了少量评注的信让他看起来对自己所拥有的公司的命运有点漠不关心，并且成为了新闻界的反面素材，特别是我写的这篇专栏文章将其描述为“冷酷无情的人”。

所以我们的一位共同的朋友最近打电话来说我们最好能见个面。“你们两个应该聊聊，相互了解一下，”这个朋友建议道。“没准你会喜欢他，仅此而已。”

所以在某个周三的晚上，我来到费伯格先生看起来有点寒酸的办公室，而与他身份相同的人都拥有实木墙面、镀白金洗手间的豪华办公室。

屋里的地毯已经有不少年岁了。墙上挂着一个巨大的鹿头装饰，冷冷地盯着来访者（费伯格先生在一次周末的狩猎中捕获了这头鹿）。一面叠成仪仗队那样的三角形的美国国旗靠在窗边（费伯格先生读书时曾加入后备军官训练队）。办公室中间还摆着一个老旧的哈雷摩托模型（他家里有一辆真的）。

我误解了费伯格先生吗？有可能。

他不是高登·盖哥（Gordon Gekko，好莱坞电影《华尔街》中的并购奇才），也不是常胜将军。他温文尔雅，而且看起来对自己的显要身份并不适应。相对于西装笔挺，他更喜欢穿舒服的牛仔裤（他现在就穿着一件很普通的蓝色外套）。他住在曼哈顿，但他说这并非他的本意。“我希望住在一个小城镇里，”他说到。他的座驾是普通的小货车（道奇2500和 GMC2500）。

当你问他自己怎么理解对公开报道的”轻视“时，他会回答：”我对此很尴尬。我不认为我值得报道。我们还有很多事情需要做。“他说他并不害怕媒体的报道或者批评，但是他不希望因此对公司造成影响。

这看起来像是在演戏——有点华尔街风格的行为艺术——但是我知道的所有曾经跟他一起工作过的人（甚至是他的直接竞争对手）都说这不是开玩笑。当你看见他本人，看着他的眼睛，听他说他当警察的小舅子的时候，他是那么的真实，好像他进入华尔街是个意外。他是我遇到的第一个蓝领亿万富翁——即使他否认他拥有亿万财产。

但这并不是说他是一个软弱的人。他在德崇证券（Drexel Burnham Lambert）开始了自己的职业生涯，并在1980年离开那里进入不良债权市场，这是华尔街最混乱的角落，历来是冒险者的乐园。实际上，博龙因为对市场变化的快速反应而赢得了很高的声望——他同样表示受之有愧。”我们认为这很普通，“他很快补充到，”我知道我对此有些偏见。“

现在他运作的是大型的私募基金，一项俱乐部式的体面生意。但他表示他的公司所坚持的事业没有什么变化：购买公司并使其更好地运作。

博龙——以神话里守护地狱入口的三头犬命名——在过去的13年里培养了超过150位优秀的经理人，例如家庭百货（Home Depot）的前任CEO，被委任去运营克莱斯勒。

费伯格先生建立了一个由顶级经理人组成的顾问团队，就像1990年代凯雷投资组织的一批政客一样。博龙委派前康柏（Compaq）的首席执行官迈克尔·卡佩拉斯（Michael D. Capellas）负责MCI电信公司的破产清算。

48岁的费伯格先生在一年之内连续收购了克莱斯勒和通用汽车金融服务公司，使得博龙资产管理公司成为了私募基金中的翘楚，而费伯格先生也因此一夜成名。

在博龙的高速发展期，这家公司被视作美国汽车产业的救世主。但是随着经济形势的快速恶化，华尔街开始为克莱斯勒和通用汽车金融服务公司收购案中所堆积的巨额债务感到担忧。底特律的工人被持续的裁员吓怕了。11月克莱斯勒在美国和加拿大解雇了1.1万工人，并计划次年2月份再解雇1.3万人。

就像布兰妮·斯皮尔斯（Brithney Spears）一样，费伯格先生说的每一句话都被华尔街和底特律翻来覆去地分析。这让我们想起了他给投资者写的那封信。其中的一句话成为了关键：“在克莱斯勒的投资中，我们不需要成为赚钱的英雄。”

费伯格先生回忆到：“如果我知道这封信会被公之于众，我会解释得更清楚一些。”他说他的投资者知道他真正想表达的意思——该业务的成功不需要彻底改革底特律的汽车工业——但是外界的人却并不一定理解。“我知道了，”他说到。“我完全明白你为什么来采访我了。”

至于美国通用，费伯格先生表示这并非故意，而公众对此的理解完全背离了事实。“我们有是有社会责任感的公司，”他说到。“我们不能失败。”他说这话的时候好像全世界的重量都压在他身上。“这太重要了，我们必须做好它。”

费伯格先生生于纽约州斯普林瓦利（Spring Valley）的一个钢材推销员家庭，拥有与生俱来的爱国精神。“美国制造业的兴旺对这个国家来说非常重要，”他说到。“复兴这些美国公司是我的梦想。”

但是，他对经济体系的脆弱和由此可能带来的对自己的业务的冲击感到担忧。“我很担心经济衰退，即使我们不出错，”他说到。他担心将汽车行业的债权打包成为证券的市场——一个证券化的过程——将会萎缩。他对汽车经销商的担心要远远多于克莱斯勒公司本身。“我们一样关心他们。”

我们的谈话进行了两个小时，我依旧在试图了解费伯格先生。他就在我面前，正如他的一位前同事对他的描述——“蔫坏”。但他并不表现出来。我还询问了他在普林斯顿（Princeton）大学网球队的事情，那可是一段非凡的经历。

“在公立学校可能更好一些，”他说到。“我可以学会更好地与人交流。”