Citigroup, the global financial giant in which you, the taxpayer, own a quarter of the shares due to that company's catastrophic bets with other people's money, was started by one man, Sanford "Sandy" Weill. The New York Times traces the company's history from 1986 to today here.
Also in today's Times is an article that just makes you want to spit at your screen in fury.
Mr. Weill stepped down in 2006 to the accolades of Wall Street.
"THIS is my final annual meeting as chairman," says Sandy Weill, standing near the window of his office, peering at a grainy photograph of him and his wife on stage at Carnegie Hall more than three years ago. They are smiling broadly, and behind them is a packed house of cheering Citigroup shareholders. A huge banner dangling from the balcony reads "Thank You Sandy."
On that day, April 18, 2006, Citi’s share price was $48.48. After studying the photo for a few moments, Mr. Weill says quietly, "I thought the company was impregnable."
On Thursday of this week, the company's stock traded at $3.31. One imagines that the shareholders aren't all that enthused anymore, particularly the employees that put their life savings into Weill's house of cards.
Citi’s troubles are well chronicled: a failure to integrate its disparate parts worldwide or to keep tabs on risky investments and free-wheeling operations. These lapses led to billions of dollars in losses and multiple bailouts, and the government now owns a quarter of the company. Citi’s shares fell from a high of $55.12 in 2007 to about a dollar early last spring, and now trade at $3.31.
Sandy Weill is filled with regrets, but not any stemming from his role in destroying the wealth of a generation. Far from it. His regrets center on his tarnished reputation.
During a series of recent interviews, Mr. Weill spoke candidly about the loss, frustration and humiliation caused by Citi’s fall. "I feel incredibly sad," he says. He remains baronially wealthy, but says he has endured financial pain, too: until a year ago, he says, the bulk of his investment portfolio was split equally between Citi stock and Treasuries. [...]
At one point, Mr. Weill had hoped to return and help the company recover and to defend his legacy himself. But the bank no longer has a place or a need for its old C.E.O. Now, Mr. Weill, 76, is trying to move on to a life without Citi.
"It’s never going to be the same company that it was," he said one morning shortly before Christmas.
One in four American children is on food stamps, Mr. Weill. Imagine, if you will, the loss, humiliation and frustration faced by their parents.
But all is not lost - Mr. Weill still has his trophies.
Sitting in his office on the 46th floor of the General Motors building in Manhattan, he is surrounded by reminders of a lifetime on Wall Street. The space is breathtaking with floor-to-ceiling windows and views stretching out over Central Park. One wall is devoted to framed magazine and newspaper articles chronicling his career. A Fortune magazine clipping from 2001 declares Citi one of its "10 Most Admired Companies."
On another wall hangs a hunk of wood — at least 4 feet wide — etched with his portrait and the words "The Shatterer of Glass-Steagall." The memento is a reference to the repeal in 1999 of Depression-era legislation; the repeal overturned core financial regulations, allowed for the creation of Citi and helped feed the Wall Street boom.
It's easy and tempting to laugh and point fingers at fallen Masters of the Universe like Weill and his partners in crime. But if we want to have a country worth passing on to our children, we need to demand that our elected representatives build a regulatory system that doesn't enable and even reward their rapacity at the expense of the commonwealth.