Free Web NovelThe moment the name Maurice Greenberg surfaced, Arthur Ochs Sulzberger Jr.’s mask cracked.
I watched his distorted expression and lifted one corner of my mouth.
“Do you truly believe Maurice Greenberg is buying up New York Times shares out of goodwill?”
Maurice Greenberg, chairman of AIG, had consistently criticized the paper’s management and openly discussed restructuring its governance.
“...Is that true?”
“As far as we know. You’re aware that Maurice Greenberg is currently under investigation by prosecutors and securities regulators, aren’t you?”
Sulzberger Jr. nodded.
“He’ll likely step down as CEO soon. No—more precisely, he’ll be forced out.”
“That’s impossible. His influence at AIG is absolute. Frankly, across all of Wall Street, his influence is nothing short of legendary.”
That much was true. Maurice Greenberg could rightly be called a living legend of Wall Street.
His influence extended far beyond finance into politics itself.
“The one holding his leash is Eliot Spitzer. He intends to run for governor. He chose Maurice Greenberg of AIG as the sacrificial offering—a Wall Street titan—to build his credentials.”
“The Sheriff of Wall Street...”
Unlike Korea, American state attorneys general are elected by popular vote.
Eliot Spitzer had been elected Attorney General in 1998 as a Democratic candidate.
His ultimate goal was the governorship, and to project a progressive image, he was tearing into Wall Street’s corruption and entrenched practices.
“Maurice Greenberg will have no choice but to step down. This isn’t something that can be brushed aside as ‘industry custom.’ Spitzer needs a trophy. He’ll cling to him to the bitter end. And AIG’s board won’t be able to ignore it indefinitely.”
After decades at AIG, a titan of Wall Street would be forced into disgrace. To reclaim his honor, he had chosen the New York Times as his battlefield.
“He will absolutely attempt to shake up the paper’s governance structure.”
“But unless we accept it—”
“I know. No one can take the New York Times away from the Sulzberger family. But have you considered this? If that was your stance, perhaps you should never have gone public. Once you raise capital from the public markets, it is only natural that investors demand a voice in management.”
“...We disclosed that structure from the beginning. Shareholders bought our stock knowing full well how governance worked.”
The New York Times went public in 1967.
America has little tolerance for hereditary or family rule in corporations.
Yet the paper had openly declared that outside interference could expose it to political and social pressures, and thus it would maintain family control.
Class A shares were floated to the public. Investors were gathered.
But through Class B shares, nine of the fourteen board seats were guaranteed to the Sulzberger family.
Now that the company’s financial troubles were surfacing, that very structure had become a weakness.
“Yes. And it’s also true that your share price has never reflected fair value because of that structure.”
“...”
“That’s why no one wants to invest in the New York Times. You rejected George Soros’s hand. You turned to Carlos Slim instead. Why do Wall Street investment houses stay away? It’s simple. Even if you mismanage the company, no one can remove you.”
“I am not ruining the New York Times! For my father’s legacy, I must pass it on to my children. That is the very reason our family exists.”
Sulzberger Jr. raised his voice.
Still living inside a dream. I let out a faint laugh.
“Idealism and reality are not the same. Did you ever imagine The Wall Street Journal would fall into Murdoch’s hands? If someone had said that a few years ago, they’d have been called insane.”
Sulzberger Jr. bit his lip when he saw the smile on my face.
“And yet what happened? The Bancroft family—who had run The Wall Street Journal for over a century—eventually waved the white flag.”
“...”
“I know you had no choice but to take George Soros’s hand. But to us, it felt like a declaration of war.”
Sulzberger Jr. shot back.
“It was a legitimate takeover battle.”
Legitimate... I wondered if he would still call it that if the roles were reversed.
“Well, fine. The means were legitimate. Then how about this? Suppose we assist Maurice Greenberg in accumulating shares. Suppose Murdoch’s media outlets continuously demand governance reform at the New York Times, arguing that its abnormal structure is suppressing its valuation.”
“...”
“What do you think happens then? I know control won’t be wrested away. The Sulzberger family would never accept governance reform. But you, of all people, understand the power of public opinion.”
Sulzberger Jr.’s face turned pale.
He knew I wasn’t a man of idle words.
And he also knew that Murdoch would not hesitate to attack the New York Times—even without my prompting.
“I do not wish to become an enemy of the New York Times. So do not force me into that position.”
He stared at me for a long time. freewёbnoνel.com
Finally, without breaking his gaze, he spoke.
“...What do you want?”
“Do not take investment from Carlos Slim. Take it from us. That’s all.”
“...Discussions are already far along.”
“It’s not an investment until the contract is signed.”
“Carlos Slim holds nine percent of the New York Times. Undoing those discussions would not end well.”
I glanced at Han Kyungyeong. He understood immediately and pulled a document from his briefcase.
“This is Dream High’s proposal to the New York Times. Review it and decide.”
Sulzberger Jr. took the proposal and read it carefully.
We said nothing. We waited.
After some time, he closed it.
“The terms are far better than Carlos Slim’s. Not bad.”
Han Kyungyeong responded coolly.
“Not merely ‘not bad.’ Be honest.”
Sulzberger Jr. gave a thin smile.
“Very well. I’ll be honest. The terms are so good they frighten me. What do you really want?”
Han Kyungyeong looked at me. I answered instead.
“The condition is simple. Do not interfere with what we do.”
“That’s unacceptable. We are a newspaper that protects journalism. For the public’s right to know—”
I raised a hand and cut him off.
“You seem to misunderstand. Report the facts as they are. Just don’t fabricate narratives at someone’s request.”
“...Are you insulting us?”
“Can you swear that isn’t the case?”
He pressed his lips shut.
“Of course, I don’t believe you personally would do such a thing. A position built on centuries of honor is not so light. But some reporters might succumb to temptation. Take Judith Miller, for example.”
“She—”
“Yes. Nothing has been proven. She would never reveal her source. But she is under investigation. Let me ask you one thing. Did she disclose her source to you?”
Silence.
I continued calmly.
“Our demand is simple. Do not deliberately obstruct us. We won’t stop you from reporting the truth.”
He shut his eyes tightly.
“Accept reality. You need investment. We offer good terms. And our condition isn’t unreasonable. Reporting facts as they are—is that so difficult?”
After a long silence, he opened his eyes. Resolve flickered there.
“Will you support me—Arthur Ochs Sulzberger Jr.?”
“We will always stand with the Sulzberger family.”
“Then I will accept the investment.”
I stood and extended my hand.
“Dream High and the Sulzberger family will make excellent partners.”
He rose and shook my hand.
“I look forward to it.”
“For the details, speak with James and the lawyers. I’ll be returning to Korea soon.”
Han Kyungyeong and Sulzberger Jr. exchanged a handshake as well.
“Oh—and shall I give you a small gift? Maurice Greenberg’s weakness.”
His eyes sharpened.
“His weakness?”
“He’s likely preparing to transfer shares to his wife. To shield his assets from potential lawsuits arising from the investigation. With this much of a lead, the New York Times’ reporting power should be sufficient.”
If the transfer occurred quietly, it would become public eventually.
But if exposed beforehand, Greenberg would hesitate.
And Eliot Spitzer was not incompetent enough to ignore it.
Sulzberger Jr.’s lips curved upward.
“A fine gift. Thank you.”
We left the New York Times headquarters under his escort.
“Does he realize our investment is a leash around his neck?” Han Kyungyeong asked, glancing back at the building.
“Hard to say. His pride is immense. He probably can’t imagine it.”
“He equates himself with the Sulzberger family. But he isn’t the family.”
“Keep accumulating shares. If we need to remove Sulzberger Jr.”
Shake from the outside. Align with internal rivals.
That was the plan.
It was also why I’d handed him Greenberg’s weakness.
Let them fight like dogs.
“Whose side will we take? Have someone in mind?”
“They’re united for now. But once he wavers, someone will move. You handle it then.”
He had asked me to support him.
I promised to support the Sulzberger family.
Those were not the same thing.
The family didn’t function under a single patriarch. It selected heirs through family councils.
That structure made them resilient against external attack.
But internally, it bred competition.
“Assign a top-tier legal team to Joseph Wilson and Valerie Plame. If we’re fighting the neocons, we do it properly.”
“It’s already arranged. I plan to meet them soon.”
I nodded.
Sulzberger Jr. would continue defending Judith Miller.
He did in my previous life.
He would try to frame her as a warrior resisting government oppression, not realizing she was eroding the paper’s credibility.
She was too influential within the newsroom.
But Miller had written stories tailored to neocon appetites in exchange for access.
From what I could tell, Sulzberger Jr. hadn’t even been told who her source was.
When he eventually discovered the truth, the shock would be profound.
That revelation would come years later in history.
This time, I intended to accelerate it—using Wilson and Plame.
“If he’s shaken from outside and challenged from within, removing him won’t be difficult.” freёwebnoѵel.com
The Bancrofts sold to Murdoch.
The Graham family would eventually # Nоvеlight # sell The Washington Post to Jeff Bezos.
In my previous life, the Sulzbergers held on.
This time would be different.
“If we can’t own it outright, we change the owner from within.”
If he tried to obstruct us, he would pay.
I thought of Arthur Ochs Sulzberger Jr. and allowed a slow smile to rise.
