Ed. Note: As a director of Hewlett-Packard Co., Tom Perkins was a key figure in one of the biggest governance stories of 2006 — the bungled investigation of the H-P board over leaks to the press. His resignation from the board in May 2006 ultimately triggered public disclosure of the caper. What followed was scorn on the company for its handling of the situation, the forced resignation of Chairman Patricia Dunn, and heaps of legal headaches. In happier days earlier in 2006, Perkins, a prominent venture capitalist and Silicon Valley pioneer, published his first novel, Sex and the Single Zillionaire. The book follows the love life and business dealings of a financier named Steven Hudson. In the following excerpt, the “lion of Wall Street,” as the protagonist is characterized in the novel, attends a meeting of one of his boards.
At nine o'clock on Wednesday morning, Tony, his regular driver, picked Steven up in the black Bentley Turbo-T. Steven settled back into the comfortable contoured rear seat, paying little attention to the aromas from the supple, rich leather and the beeswaxed-marquetry inlaid woods, masterpieces of craftsmanship. The thick lamb's wool carpets and the solid body muffled the sounds of the streets and the powerful engine was but a whisper, as Steven wound up his reading of the Journal, scowling at the day's political outrages from the editorial page.
The relatively traffic-free drive out to Space Technologies, near Oyster Bay on Long Island, didn't take long at all. Steven had been the chairman of the company's board of directors for years. In fact, all the way back to when he first financed the new giant company. The firm had prospered greatly under his guidance and on his 60th birthday the board had waived the requirement for mandatory retirement.
Steven actually didn't like board meetings. A good board meeting should be very, very boring, Steven always thought. The lawyers, accountants, and management should have thoroughly discussed every possible issue beforehand so that business ought to be routine. An exciting board meeting meant that something was out of control. The meeting Steven was attending that day was being held to review and approve next year's operating budget.
Thomas Clark, the dynamic, youthful CEO, had reached the details of the budget when lunch was laid out in front of them. They typically worked through lunch. He had raised the need to float another bond issue to finance capital equipment, when Aaron Adler, a combative and outspoken director, started to challenge Clark. “Do we need to spend so much? Wouldn't a stock issue be less dilutive to earnings than interest on bonds?” And so on and on it went, with ever growing impatience and irritation.
Finally Clark blurted out: “Look, Aaron, if you're so damn sure of how to run this show, maybe you should just take over.” He said it with a smile, but the tension was only thinly disguised. “Oh, come on, I'm just making you earn your outrageous pay,” Aaron barked. Then he did the unthinkable. He tossed a bread crust at Clark, hitting him squarely in the chest.
The CEO was taken aback, but only for a moment. With a sweeping motion, Clark snatched a bread roll from the table and hurled it back at Aaron, who caught it in midair and flung it directly at the astonished Steven! Within a second or two, the entire board broke into a high school cafeteria bun fight.
After every roll and napkin was thrown and lay on the floor, the directors collapsed in fits of laughter, including Steven, who couldn't believe that he'd been one of the more active participants. Thank God none of the waiters or outsiders had been present. The investing public's confidence in big corporate America would remain unshaken.
Interestingly, the board moved the CEO's agenda and ended its affairs on a congenial note. â–