March 15, 1995: Independent counsel Robert Fiske releases his final report on the Whitewater affair. While absolving President and Mrs. Clinton of any legal wrongdoing, it says that there was “still something kind of fishy about the whole arrangement between whatsisname, McDougal, the Madison Guaranty guy, and the Clintons.” It adds that the President probably exercised “questionable” judgment in asking so many female state employees to perform oral sex on him, even if he was governor at the time.
—Esquire, 1994
Please
Refrain from
Breathing
To save money, airlines in the United States are circulating
less fresh air into the cabins of many airplanes.
—The New York Times
CONFIDENTIAL MEMORANDUM
TO: CHIEF EXECUTIVE OFFICER,
AEROAMERICA AIRLINES
FROM: SENIOR V.P., REVENUE
ENHANCEMENT DIVISION (RED)
RE: FURTHER SAVINGS
1. FOOD/BEVERAGE. Nutritional Research (N.R.) informs us that by adding a mixture of sawdust and polyethylene foam to the food—most of which is going uneaten anyway—we could cut costs significantly.
After extensive testing on focus groups, in which “passengers” were served “beef and “fish” selections consisting of equal parts of real beef or fish and the sawdust-polyethylene mixture, it was determined that only 3 percent noticed they were eating wood and plastic instead of our standard fare.
First and Business Class pose a challenge, as these are more sensitive palates, but N.R. feels that the problem can be solved by heavily spicing the dishes with inexpensive cumin and calling them, respectively, “Beef Bangalore” and “Fiery Fish.”
Bonus: Once the sawdust-polyethylene mixture reaches the stomach, it expands to five times its normal volume, greatly reducing passenger desire for expensive complimentary beverages. (See Tab A—Flight Surgeon’s Report on Effects of High-Altitude Consumption of Wood and Plastic.)
2. SAFETY EQUIPMENT. Studies have shown that a statistically insignificant number of seat-cushion PFDs (Personal Flotation Devices) are ever actually deployed. Their primary value is psychological, providing passengers with the illusion that they might survive in the event that the aircraft plunges into the ocean at five hundred miles per hour. Additionally, since 85 percent of our flight routes are over land, it might logically be asked: Why bother with flotation devices at all?
RED suggests that it makes prudent, even urgent, economic sense to remove the polyethylene foam from inside the seat cushions and put it where it can be more profitably used—namely, in the passengers’ food. (See Tab B—Polyethylene Foam: Tofu of the 1990s?)
As for the inflatable life rafts, these items are both bulky and heavy. They take up space that could be more profitably used for passenger seating (see below), and they increase drag and reduce lift, putting strain on the engines and requiring more fuel. KED recommends that these be sold, and replaced with smaller and lighter substitutes—yellow bags filled with shredded in-flight magazines.
3. THE COCKPIT. While employing pilots, copilots, and flight engineers was once desirable, even necessary, sophisticated computers and flight systems can now do their work far more efficiently. (How many times has the NTSB attributed a crash to “computer error”? Not many.) Additionally, computers do not demand raises, require medical or pension plans, go on strike, or participate in profit sharing. (See Tab C—Rethinking Profit Sharing: Whose Airline Is It, Anyway?)
A possible solution: As you are only too well aware, AeroAmerica’s policy of terminating female flight attendants over the age of fifty has met with stiff—and very costly—legal resistance from their union, and has resulted in unfortunate (and grossly unfair) publicity. Would it therefore not make sense to take these troublesome flight attendants, pay them half or a third of their former salaries, put them in pilot, copilot, and flight-engineer uniforms, and stick them in the cockpit? This would kill many birds with one stone: (a) passengers peeping into the cockpit on entering and leaving would not become agitated on finding no one there; (b) the aging flight attendants would be grateful to have jobs, even at reduced salaries; and (c) AeroAmerica would be seen to be in the forefront of women’s rights.
4. SEATING. Though passenger-satisfaction questionnaires often reflect dissatisfaction with existing seating configurations, our research has determined that seventeen inches is more than generous for the average passenger’s posterior, and that ten inches of legroom is probably adequate in most cases. Over the centuries, the human body has shown it-self to be almost infinitely adaptable. RED recommends reducing current posterior allotments to fourteen inches and legroom to six inches. (See Tab D—Coffins, Tiger Cages, and Cattle Cars: Masterpieces of Ergonomic Design.)
5. EMERGENCY MASKS. Does it not strike management as odd that as we are reducing passengers’ air supply we continue to supply them, gratis, with oxygen?
—The New Yorker, 1993
Confídentíal
Memorandum
TO: MERCEDES BASS
FROM: ZEIT & GEIST PUBLIC RELATIONS, INC.
RE: RECENT ARTICLE IN W ABOUT YOUR NEW $75-MILLION RESIDENCES IN FORT WORTH AND NEW YORK CITY
Given homelessness, recession, blah blah, short-term fallout admittedly may be damaging. But medium/long-term we recommend an aggressive spin strategy to reverse perceptions stemming from the piece. Goal: insuring that portrait of you that ultimately emerges is neither “Marie Antoinette” (page 12) nor “Madame de Pompadour” (ibid.) but, rather, concerned fighter for the country’s economic welfare. Talking points (key buzz words in CAPS) for future media hits:
1. Re cost of Fort Worth house: $3-million wall, $12-million landscaping, helipad, lake-size fountain, etc. Complacent Easterners may not understand this, but Texas is hurting. Oil prices down, unemployment soaring, lives ruined. We (that is, you and Mr. Bass) choose the SOCIALLY RESPONSIBLE course of plowing money back into the Texas economy as LABOR INTENSIVELY as possible. The W article teemed with inaccuracies, but at least got it right in saying that the Crestline Road PROJECT involved “an army of workmen … one-hundred-strong.” Assuming a normal family of four per workman, that makes four hundred people who directly benefit (clothing, food, tuition, etc.). Sid (that is, Mr. Bass) and I have always felt that trickle-down begins at home.
2a. Re $9-million co-op on Fifth Avenue, plus $26-million renovations and furnishings. At a time when people are fleeing New York in droves and eroding its tax base, is it wrong for others to register a strong yes vote for the city by making a HOME there? Yes, the apartment needed work. Most 1920s-era apartments do. We were happy to be able to PROVIDE EMPLOYMENT for so many talented UNION craftsmen. Also French and other craftsmen, many of them BILINGUAL.
2b. Imported art and furnishings, including $1.7-million pair of Louis XVI commodes, $825,000 pair of Louis XVI planters, $1.21-million Louis XIV carpet. Also $30k worth of dried topiary for the Aspen lodge. Yes, we have spent a lot of money. The whole POINT OF THE PROJECT was to insure worthy GIFTS when we DONATE BOTH THESE RESIDENCES to New York City and Fort Worth as HOMELESS SHELTERS. Sid and I had been planning to announce the GIFTS upon completion of the work, but W, by RUSHING INTO PRINT, has imputed to us less selfless motives. (Obviously, you will want to discuss this approach beforehand with Mr. Bass, but you could emerge as the modern Eleanor Roosevelt—minus the frumpy frocks. Important: remain vague as to the precise timing of the gift.)
—The New Yorker, 1992
Want to Buy
a Dead Díctator?
Lenín
for Sale
It has come to our attention through private channels
that the Soviet government is preparing to make a
very unusual, indeed unprecedented, offering:
the embalmed remains of V. I. Lenin.
With its ruined economy fast approaching crisis point, and a severe winter food shortage looming, the Russian government is being forced to undertake some very drastic
measures in an attempt to bring in desperately needed hard currency. Last summer, cosmonauts aboard the Soviet space station Mir, circling 240 miles above the earth, were reduced to earning money for the ailing national space effort by sipping Coca-Cola in an experiment for the company.
Last April, the Soviet Interior Ministry was tasked with coming up with a list of patrimonial items, such as icons, Fabergé eggs, and other treasures that the government could sell off. The Deputy Minister, Mr. Viktor Komplectov, first proposed selling Lenin’s remains last April, pointing to the enormous profits earned by the British government when it sold London Bridge to an Arizona developer in 1962. At the time, according to one source at the Ministry, the proposal was considered “sacrilegious,” but after last August’s coup attempt by Communist hard-liners, the citizenry reacted with vengeance against all vestiges of bolshevism. The government announced that it was considering burying Lenin beside his mother in his Russian hometown of Ulyanovsk. It reconsidered that proposal when, according to a high-ranking Ministry official, “a significant number of threats were received stating that the body would be dug up and indecent things done upon it.” At that point, the Ministry decided that it might be safer to remove the corpse from the country. Mr. Komplectov’s proposal was thus unshelved and submitted for study in a new light. Russian President Boris Yeltsin is said to have given his final approval in late October, in the wake of the tumultuous summer upheaval.
In an attempt to save the significant commission that an auction house such as Christie’s or Sotheby’s would charge—as well as to discourage an extraordinary, and to the Russians, unseemly, public spectacle—the Ministry has decided to hold a closed, sealed bid auction. Bids must be received by the Ministry no later than midnight (Moscow time) on December 31st of this year. The reserve is set at $15 million, U.S. The winning bidder will be contacted within three days.
A condition of the sale is that the Lenin corpse not be used for any “commercial, or improper” purpose, the deed of purchase to be administered by the International Court of Justice at The Hague, in the Netherlands, making the conditions of sale enforceable by that international legal community.
Description: Mr. Lenin’s body was embalmed at his death in 1924, and stored in a sealed, climate-controlled glass casket. (Shades of Sleeping Beauty!) It has been periodically re-embalmed. Every five to ten years the skin, somewhat yellowish but by no means jaundiced-looking, requires a special application of preservative, or “waxing.” Under the terms of sale, maintenance is to be provided only by qualified Russian mortuary specialists from the Interior Ministry, expenses to be paid for by the purchaser. (Estimated annual upkeep: $10,000-$ 15,000; varies with climate.)
Obviously, the Lenin corpse is not for everyone. But as a conversation piece, it would certainly have no equal. You might have some explaining to do to the lady of the home, but the item is fairly compact and could be accommodated to fit in most large dens.
Bids should be addressed to:
Viktor Barannikov, Minister of the Interior
Ministry of the Interior
UL Ogaryova #6
Moscow 103009
—Forbes FYI, 1991
Premíer Kíssoff Is on
the Líne and He’s
Hoppínǵ Mad
“You know what they really ought to sell,” Geoffrey Norman said one day in the fall of 1991, after the news reported that in order to raise desperately needed hard currency, the former Soviet Union was selling items from its space program and KGB Cold War archives, “is Lenin.”
“Hm,” I said.
Thus was born OPERATION RED BOD, the code name we adopted around the office. At 4:30 on the afternoon of November 5 we faxed a galley page of the article—minus the accompanying photo illustration showing Lenin under a glass coffee table in the midst of a cocktail party—to dozens of news organizations, which were by then starting to close their evening broadcasts and next day’s editions. And went home.
Two hours later I was exercising on my cross-country ski machine in front of (my favorite) evening news show, ABC’s World News Tonight, when on came Lenin’s waxy face on the screen next to Peter Jennings’s bemused own. This was the last time Jennings would smile for several days.
Early the next morning my phone rang, for the first of many times that day. It was Forbes Chairman Steve Forbes, my boss.
“The Russians have gone ballistic,” he said. “We’re going to refer all calls to yow.”
The fiftieth, or perhaps fifty-first call (before noon) was from the BBC, informing me that Minister Barannikov had been forced to break into regular Moscow TV programming to assure an anxious nation that he was not, in fact, secretly planning to auction off their former dictator, even if he was a god that failed. Moreover, said the BBC, Minister Barannikov had some strong words for FYI’s editor. The phrases “international incident,” “brazen lie,” and “serious provocation” occurred. I suggested to the BBC that Minister Barannikov “chill out.” This caused some confusion but was eventually translated into English as “relax.” I then received a number of subsequent phone calls from persons with thick Russian accents suggesting that relaxing was not a viable option.
Peter Jennings was very gracious, under the circumstances. He called personally, without an intervening secretary, “to get your exact title.” That night, with the expression of a headmaster informing assembly that one of the students had let down not only the school, but himself, he retracted the story. To the quite numerous reporters who called him for comment, he said that he had believed the story because it had come from Forbes, which he regarded “up to now, as a responsible news organization.” Paramedics were summoned to the offices of Forbes editor Jim Michaels, who had devoted a lifetime of hard work to establishing Forbes’s reputation as a paragon of reputability.
Reactions of other news organizations ran the gamut from bemused to outraged. One newspaper called for me to be “drummed out of the international press corps.”
Postscript: Half a year later I picked up The Washington Post to a large story that the Kremlin had been “inundated” with bids “ranging from $10,000 to $27 million for the pickled corpse of Vladimir Ilyich Lenin.”
One letter, from the director of a Virginia printing company, read, “We are in the final planning stages of our new corporate headquarters. We were recently discussing the new lobby and saw the need for an appropriate centerpiece. Our interior designer has agreed with us, and feels that suitable arrangements can be made to house Mr. Lenin’s body here.”
A Merrill Lynch broker in Houston who submitted the $10,000 bid said, “I don’t think my wife would allow me to keep Lenin at home. It wouldn’t go with the furniture. If my bid is accepted, I will probably donate it to our Museum of Fine Arts. There is quite an interest here in culture.”
Minister Barannikov’s sense of humor had by now been restored. His spokesman told the Post that everyone who submitted a bid would receive a polite letter declining their offer, but thanking them for their interest.
Mr. Lenin was last reported still resting comfortably on Red Square; the dead mouse, as it were, on the floor of Russia’s living room.
—Forbes FYI, 1995
Guy Stuff
Drívínǵ Throuǵh the
Apocalypse
“You’d be surprised,” said Andy, surveilling a row of smashed-up cars, “at how few people know how to properly ram a vehicle.”
It had been an interesting morning so far. It started off with a slide show featuring the last mortal remains of various German executives, Italian politicians and U.S. diplomats. The classroom was a windowless room hung with the sayings of PLO Party Animal George Habash, quotes from the Baader-Meinhof training manual, autographed photos of FBI agents duded up in Ninja outfits, bomb diagrams and a “DEFEND FIREARMS DEFEAT DUKAKIS” bumper sticker.
Next came the lecture on how to steer and brake properly—chances are you are doing it all wrong—how to “swerve to avoid,” and drive off the road without r
equiring surgery. Very useful stuff, this.
You don’t have to be an exec who’s just gotten the happy news that you’re being sent to head up the Lima, Peru, office to appreciate the three-day Executive Security Training course they give out at BSR in Summit Point, W.Va., two hours down the road from Washington, D.C. Suppose, as one of the instructors put it, you have a loved one who is going to die unless you get her to the hospital in ten minutes, and the hospital is 20 minutes away? You will learn how to do that. That’s how they talk, the instructors, most of them former military sergeants: “I will give the first lecture tomorrow on surveillance detection, and you will find it compelling.”
Right now we were about to get into a Buick LeSabre and ram a Volvo station wagon, and I did have a burbly sensation in my stomach. Angel, a 150-pound knot of muscle with a Zapata mustache, two tours in Vietnam with the 101st, and he won’t say how many with Delta Force, was our ramming instructor. Here’s the situation, he said: you round the curve, and there’s a car blocking the road and two guys standing in front of it with guns pointed at you. “You can try to turn around, do a boot-leg or a J-turn. Or,” he added, insinuating his preference with just a crease of a smile, “you might just decide you want to put a little Goodyear on ’em.”
Wry Martinis Page 12
