“No, I don’t think that would be advisable given the circumstances. In fact, I feel it would be wiser for you to stay out of their way until the Monday board meeting is over. They won’t want to seem any less independent than necessary and they may already feel like glorified rubber stamps. Take my advice, Bill—you go back to Boston. I’ll call you with the good news before noon on Monday.”
William reluctantly agreed to Peter Parfitt’s suggestion and went on to spend a pleasant evening discussing with both Parfitts where he and Kate might stay in New York while they were looking for a permanent home. William was somewhat surprised to find that Peter Parfitt seemed to have no desire to discuss his own views on banking, but he assumed the reason was because of Diana Parfitt’s presence. An excellent evening ended with a little too much brandy and William did not arrive back at the Harvard Club until after one o’clock.
Once William had returned to Boston he made an immediate report to Tony Simmons of what had transpired in New York; he did not want him to hear about the appointment from anyone else. Tony turned out to be surprisingly sanguine about the news.
“I’m sorry to learn that you’ll be leaving us, William. Lester’s may well be two or three times the size of Kane and Cabot, but I’ll be unable to replace you and I hope you’ll consider very carefully before accepting the appointment.”
William was surprised and couldn’t help showing it. “Frankly, Tony, I would have thought you’d have been only too glad to see the last of met.”
“William, when will you ever believe that my first interest has always been the bank, and there has never been any doubt in my mind that you are one of the shrewdest investment advisors in America today? If you leave Kane and Cabot now, many of the bank’s most important clients will naturally want to follow you.”
“I would never transfer my own trust funds to Lester’s,” said William, “any more than I would expect any of the bank’s clients to move with me.”
“Of course you wouldn’t solicit them to join you, William, but some of them will want you to continue managing their portfolios. Like your father and Charles Lester, they believe quite rightly that banking is about people and reputations.”
William and Kate spent a tense weekend waiting for Monday and the result of the board meeting in New York. William sat nervously in his office the whole of Monday morning, answering every telephone call personally, but he heard nothing as the morning dragged into the afternoon. He didn’t even leave the office for lunch. Peter Parfitt finally called a little after five.
“I’m afraid there’s been some unexpected trouble, Bill” were his opening words.
William’s heart sank.
“Nothing for you to worry about since I still feel I have the situation well under control, but the board wants the right to oppose your nomination with their own candidate. Some of them have produced legal opinions that go as far as saying the relevant clause of the will has no real validity. I’ve been given the unpleasant task of asking if you would be willing to fight an election against the board’s candidate.”
“Who would be the board’s candidate?” asked William.
“No names have been mentioned by anyone yet, but I imagine their choice will be Ted Leach. No one else has shown the slightest interest in running against you.”
“I’d like a little time to think about it,” William replied. “When will the next board meeting be?”
“A week from today,” said Parfitt. “But don’t you go and get yourself all worked up about Ted Leach; I’m still confident you’ll win easily and I’ll keep you informed of any further developments as the week goes by.”
“Do you want me to come down to New York, Peter?”
“No, not for the moment. I don’t think that would help matters.”
William thanked him and put the phone down. He packed his old leather briefcase and left the office, feeling more than a little depressed. Tony Simmons, carrying a suitcase, caught up with him in the private parking lot.
“I didn’t know you were going out of town, Tony.”
“It’s only the monthly bankers’ dinner in New York. I’ll be back by tomorrow afternoon. I think I can safely leave Kane and Cabot for twenty-four hours in the capable hands of the next chairman of Lester’s.”
William laughed. “I may already be the ex-chairman,” he said, and explained the latest development. Once again William was surprised by Tony Simmons’s reaction.
“It’s true that Ted Leach has always expected to be the next chairman of Lester’s,” he said. “That’s common knowledge in financial circles. But he’s a loyal servant of the bank and I can’t believe he would oppose Charles Lester’s express wishes.”
“I didn’t realize you even knew him,” said William.
“I don’t know him all that well,” said Tony. “He was a class ahead of me at Yale, and now I see him from time to time at these damned bankers’ dinners, which you’ll have to attend when you’re a chairman. He’s bound to be there tonight. I’ll have a word with him if you like.”
“Yes, please do, but be very careful, won’t you?” said William.
“My dear William, you’ve spent ten years of your life telling me I’m far too careful.”
“I’m sorry, Tony. Funny how one’s judgment is impaired when one is worrying about personal problems, however sound the same judgment might be considered when dealing with other people’s. I’ll put myself in your hands and do whatever you advise.”
“Good, then. You leave it to me. I’ll see what Leach has to say for himself and call you first thing in the morning.”
Tony called from New York a few minutes after midnight and woke William from a deep sleep.
“Have I awoken you, William?”
“Yes. Who is it?”
“Tony Simmons.”
William switched on the light by his side of the bed and looked at his alarm clock. “Well, you did say you would call first thing in the morning.”
Tony laughed. “I’m afraid what I have to tell you won’t seem quite so funny. The man opposing you for chairman of Lester’s is Peter Parfitt.”
“What?” said William, suddenly awake.
“He’s been trying to push the board into supporting him behind your back. Ted Leach, as I expected, is in favor of your appointment as chairman, but the board is now split down the middle.”
“Hell. First, thank you, Tony, and second, what do I do now?”
“If you want to be the next chairman of Lester’s, you’d better get down here fast before the members of the board wonder why you’re hiding away in Boston.”
“Hiding away?”
“That’s what Parfitt has been telling the directors for the past few days.”
“The bastard!”
“Now that you mention the subject, I am unable to vouch for his parentage,” said Tony.
William laughed.
“Come and stay at the Yale Club. Then we can talk the whole thing out first thing in the morning.”
“I’ll be there as quickly as I can,” said William.
“I may be asleep when you arrive. It’ll be your turn to wake me.”
William put the phone down and looked over at Kate, blissfully oblivious to his new problems. She had slept right through the entire conversation. How he wished he could manage that. A curtain had only to flutter in the breeze and he was awake. She would probably sleep right through the Second Coming. He scribbled a few lines of explanation to her and put the note on her bedside table; then he dressed, packed—this time including a dinner jacket—and set off for New York.
The roads were clear and the run in the Daimler seemed the quickest he had ever made. He drove into New York with cleaners, mailmen, newsboys and the morning sun and checked in at the Yale Club as the hall clock chimed once. It was six-fifteen. He unpacked and decided to rest for an hour before waking Tony. The next thing he heard was an insistent tapping on his door. Sleepily, he got up to open it, only to find Tony Simmons standing ou
tside.
“Nice dressing gown, William,” said Tony, grinning. He was fully dressed.
“I must have fallen asleep. If you wait a minute, I’ll be right with you,” said William.
“No, no, I have to catch a train back to Boston. You take a shower and get yourself dressed while we talk.”
William went into the bathroom and left the door open.
“Now your main problem,” started Tony.
William put his head around the bathroom door. “I can’t hear you while the water’s running.”
Tony waited for it to stop. “Peter Parfitt is your main problem. He assumed he was going to be the next chairman and that his would be the name that was read out in Charles Lester’s will. He’s been maneuvering the directors against you and playing boardroom politics ever since. Ted Leach can fill you in on the finer details and would like you to join him for lunch today at the Metropolitan Club. He may bring two or three other board members with him on whom you can rely. The board, by the way, still seems to be split right down the middle.”
William nicked himself with his razor. “Damn. Which club?”
“Metropolitan, just off Fifth Avenue on East Sixtieth Street.”
“Why there and not somewhere down in Wall Street?”
“William, when you’re dealing with the Peter Parfitts of this world, you don’t telegraph your intentions. Keep your wits about you and play the whole thing very coolly. From what Leach tells me, he believes you can still win.”
William came back into the bedroom with a towel around his waist. “I’ll try,” he said. “To be cool, that is.”
Tony smiled. “Now I must get back to Boston. My train leaves Grand Central in ten minutes.” He looked at his watch. “Damn, six minutes.”
Tony paused at the bedroom door. “You know, your father never trusted Peter Parfitt. Too smooth, he always used to say. Never anything more, just a little too smooth.” He picked up his suitcase. “Good luck, William.”
“How can I begin to thank you, Tony?”
“You can’t. Just put it down to my trying to atone for the lousy way I treated Matthew.”
William watched the door close as he put in his collar stud. As he straightened his tie he reflected on how curious it was that he had spent years working closely with Tony Simmons without ever really getting to know him but that now, in only a few days of personal crisis, he found himself instantly liking and trusting a man he had never before really been aware of. He went down to the dining room and had a typical club breakfast: a cold boiled egg, one piece of hard toast, butter and English marmalade from someone else’s table. The porter handed him a copy of The Wall Street Journal, which hinted on an inside page that everything was not running smoothly at Lester’s following the nomination of William Kane as its next chairman. At least the Journal did not seem to have any inside information.
William returned to his room and asked the operator for a number in Boston. He was kept waiting for a few minutes before he was put through.
“I do apologize, Mr. Kane. I had no idea it was you on the line. May I congratulate you on your appointment as chairman of Lester’s. I hope this means our New York office will be seeing a lot more of you in the future.”
“That may well depend on you, Mr. Cohen.”
“I don’t think I quite understand,” the lawyer replied.
William explained what had happened over the past few days and read out the relevant section of Charles Lester’s will.
Thomas Cohen spent some time taking down each word and then going over his notes carefully.
“Do you think his wishes would stand up in court?” asked William.
“Who knows? I can’t think of a precedent for such a situation. A nineteenth-century Member of Parliament once bequeathed his constituency in a will and no one objected, and the beneficiary went on to become Prime Minister. But that was over a hundred years ago—and in England. Now in this case, if the board decided to contest Mr. Lester’s will and you took their decision to court, I wouldn’t care to predict which way the judge might jump. Lord Melbourne didn’t have to contend with a surrogate of New York County. Nevertheless, a nice legal conundrum, Mr. Kane.”
“What do you advise?” asked William.
“I am a Jew, Mr. Kane. I came to this country on a ship from Germany at the turn of the century and I have always had to fight hard for anything I’ve wanted. Do you want to be chairman of Lester’s that badly?”
“Yes, Mr. Cohen, I do.”
“Then you must listen to an old man who has, over the years, come to view you with great respect and, if I may say so, with some affection. I’ll tell you exactly what I’d do if I were faced with your predicament.”
An hour later William put the phone down and, having some time to kill, strolled up Park Avenue. Along the way he passed a site on which a huge building was well into construction. A large, neat billboard announced: “The next Baron Hotel will be in New York. When the Baron has been your host, you’ll never want to stay anywhere else.” William smiled and walked with a lighter step toward the Metropolitan Club.
Ted Leach, a short, dapper man with dark brown hair and a lighter mustache, was standing in the foyer of the club, waiting for him. He ushered William into the bar. William admired the Renaissance style of the club, built by Otto Kuhn and Stanford White in 1891. J. P. Morgan had founded the club when one of his closest friends was blackballed at the Union League.
“A fairly extravagant gesture even for a very close friend,” Ted Leach suggested, trying to make conversation. “What will you have to drink, Mr. Kane?”
“A dry sherry, please,” said William.
A boy in a smart blue uniform returned a few moments later with a dry sherry and a scotch and water; he hadn’t needed to ask Mr. Leach for his order.
“To the next chairman of Lester’s,” said Ted Leach, raising his glass.
William hesitated.
“Don’t drink, Mr. Kane. As you know, you should never drink to yourself.”
William laughed, unsure of what to say.
A few minutes later two older men were walking toward them, both tall and confident in the bankers’ uniform of gray three-piece suits, stiff collars and dark, unpatterned ties. Had they been strolling down Wall Street, William would not have given them a second glance. In the Metropolitan Club he studied them carefully.
“Mr. Alfred Rodgers and Mr. Winthrop Davies,” said Ted Leach as he introduced them.
William’s smile was reserved, unsure as he was whose side anyone was on. The two newcomers studied him with care. No one spoke for a moment.
“Where do we start?” said the one named Rodgers, a monocle falling from his eye as he spoke.
“By going on up to lunch,” said Ted Leach.
The three of them turned, obviously knowing exactly where they were going. William followed. The dining room on the second floor was vast, with another magnificent high ceiling. The maitre d’ placed them in the window seat, overlooking Central Park, where no one could overhear their conversation.
“Let’s order and then talk,” said Ted Leach.
Through the window William could see the Plaza Hotel. Memories of his celebration with the grandmothers and Matthew came flooding back to him—and there was something else he was trying to recall about that tea at the Plaza … .
“Mr. Kane, let’s put our cards on the table,” said Ted Leach. “Charles Lester’s decision to appoint you as chairman of the bank came as a surprise, not to put too fine a point on it. But if the board ignores his wishes, the bank could be plunged into chaos and that is an outcome none of us needs. He was a shrewd old man and he had his reasons for wanting you as the bank’s next chairman, and that’s good enough for me.”
William had heard those words before—from Peter Parfitt.
“All three of us,” said Winthrop Davies, taking over, “owe everything we have to Charles Lester, and we will carry out his wishes if it’s the last thing we do as members of the boa
rd.”
“It may turn out to be just that,” said Ted Leach, “if Peter Parfitt does succeed in becoming chairman.”
“I’m sorry, gentlemen,” said William, “to have caused so much consternation. If my appointment as chairman came as a surprise to you, I can assure you it was nothing less than a bolt from the blue for me. I imagined I would receive some minor personal memento of Matthew’s from Charles Lester’s will, not the responsibility of running the bank.”
“We understand the position you’ve been placed in, Mr. Kane,” said Ted Leach, “and you must trust us when we say we’re here to help you. We are aware that you’ll find that difficult to believe after the treatment that has been meted out to you by Peter Parfitt and the tactics he’s been using behind your back.”
“I have to believe you, Mr. Leach, because I have no choice but to place myself in your hands. How do you view the current situation?”
“The situation is clear to me,” said Leach. “Peter Parfitt’s campaign is well organized and he now feels he’s acting from a position of strength. We, therefore, Mr. Kane, must be entirely open with each other if we are to have any chance of beating him. I am assuming, of course, that you have the stomach for such a fight.”
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, Mr. Leach. And now that you’ve summed up the position so succinctly, perhaps you’ll allow me to suggest how we should go about defeating Mr. Parfitt.”
“Certainly,” said Ted Leach.
The three other men all listened intently.
“You are undoubtedly right in saying that Parfitt feels he is now in a strong position because to date he has always been the one on the attack, always knowing what is going to happen next. Might I suggest that the time has come for us to reverse that trend and take up the attack ourselves where and when he least expects it—in his own boardroom.”
“How do you propose we go about that, Mr. Kane?” inquired Winthrop Davies, looking somewhat surprised.
“I’ll tell you if you’ll first permit me to ask you two questions. How many full-time executive directors are there with a vote on the board?”
Kane and Abel/Sons of Fortune Page 36
