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<UID>
0208100294
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<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
020811
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Sunday, August 11, 2002
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
METRO FINAL
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
COM; CHOICES
</SECTION>
<PAGE>
1E
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<ILLUSTRATION>

</ILLUSTRATION>
<CAPTION>

</CAPTION>
<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM FREE PRESS COLUMNIST
</BYLINE>
<AFFILIATION>

</AFFILIATION>
<MEMO>

</MEMO>
<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 2002, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
THE TROUBLE WITH BUSINESS IS BUSINESS
</HEADLINE>
<SUBHEAD>

</SUBHEAD>
<CORRECTION>

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<BODY>
Mr. Kozlowski wanted a new house. So he took a loan. The loan was for $19
million. He took it from his company.

With that money, he built a 15,000- square-foot Mediterranean-style mansion
that featured, among other lavish touches, a $6,000 shower curtain.

And then, as if by magic, the loan was forgiven. Wiped out. Gone. He never
even paid interest. In fact, the company also paid $13 million of his taxes on
his gift. The shareholders were never told.

Mr. Kozlowski -- Dennis to his friends -- was the CEO of Tyco International.
He quit his job the day before he was charged with evading taxes. Tyco's stock
is now in the toilet, and the company is being investigated by the SEC.

No word on the shower curtain.

Linda Wachner used to run Warnaco, which produced, among other things, Calvin
Klein underwear. The company, under Wachner, sank last year, and the stock
dropped to just over a dollar a share. Saddled with debt, it filed for
bankruptcy, and the board asked Wachner to resign. She did. Now she wants a
severance package: $25 million.

Oh. And she wants to be paid ahead of the other creditors, thank you. A check
will be fine.



The corporate gods

Tom Wolfe, in his brilliant book "Bonfire of the Vanities," described the
mind-set of super-rich Wall Street types: "Masters of the Universe." That was
how they saw themselves. Privileged. Entitled. Forced to share their greatness
with the unwashed masses who actually punched a clock. Masters of the
Universe!

The only problem with that characterization is that it doesn't go far enough.
The CEO in America has been elevated from master to god. His arrival at a
company is often celebrated with religious fervor, giant-screen projections,
multimedia productions. Books are written detailing the CEO's secrets. His
seven steps to success are studied by would-be imitators the way young clerics
study the Bible.

And somewhere along the line, these people have bought into the myth. They
honestly think they are entitled to more, to better, and, most sadly, to a
different set of rules.

So a man like Kozlowski can ring up $11 million worth of art and antique
purchases and charge it to his company. Or a guy like Kenneth Lay from Enron
can make sham deals that show a phony $60 million worth of profit -- just so
he can hit his bonus numbers and collect millions in compensation -- yet his
wife weeps on TV that they have nothing.

There is a crisis in American business, all right. But it's not because
shareholders don't know what they're investing in anymore. It's because they
don't know whom.



Their just deserts

Corporations, like football teams, are not that hard to figure out. The grunts
may do the work, and the staff may handle the details. But the head coach sets
the tone, sets the rules and knows what's going on. Whether it's Arthur
Andersen, WorldCom, Enron, ImClone, Halliburton, Tyco or any other big
company, the people at the top are the people running the show.

And when they think it's OK to indulge, so does everyone else.

So I don't blame the recent spate of lawsuits seeking damages not just from
deceitful corporations but also from the people who ran them. After all, if a
CEO thinks he and the firm are so interchangeable that it can pay for his
suits, his homes and his shower curtains, then why shouldn't he pay for its
transgressions?

Perhaps the biggest sin of our 1990s indulgence is that we so separated the
rich from the poor -- or even the middle class -- that they stopped thinking
of them as people. They were shareholders, thereby rubes, thereby less than
Masters of the Universe, thereby fair game to be toyed with, lied to and
dismissed.

Usually, when they say "it's not the money," it's the money. This time, when
you consider these CEOs' behavior, the worst part really isn't the money.

It's the gall.



Contact MITCH ALBOM at 313-223-4581 or  albom@freepress.com. "The Mitch Albom
Show" airs 3-6 p.m. weekdays on WJR-AM (760).
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