Separation : Part 3

The Real Deal: My Life in Business and Philanthropy
by Sandy Weill, Judah S. Kraushaar

(Page 3 of 9)

From our summers spent in Peekskill, my parents were familiar with the Peekskill Military Academy. With little time to research alternatives and my parents' sense that I might benefit from a disciplined environment, I was enrolled as a lowly plebe. As had been the case when we moved to Florida, I was put back a year, while my more academically inclined sister was skipped forward. We might have been three years apart in age, yet grade-wise she was steadily catching up on me.

Originally, I was supposed to go to PMA only for a year until my parents found more permanent living accommodations, but I really took to the school and insisted on staying the full four years even after my family found a home of their own in the Flatbush section of Brooklyn. Military school was fantastic for me. There was plenty of hazing my first year, and I learned how to take criticism before dishing it out, a skill with lifelong value. The attractive campus with its ivy covered redbrick buildings did little to detract from the administration's insistence on tight discipline and hard work. We attended classes six days a week, and there were strictly enforced curfews. The discipline was exactly what I needed.

Early on, I had the good fortune to develop a close relationship with Clare Frantz, who was my Latin teacher and tennis coach. Tall and lean, the Germanic Frantz took an active interest in me and motivated me to improve my study habits. He worked with me both in the classroom and on the tennis court and tremendously boosted my self-confidence. Unlike my father, who always seemed immersed in business, Clare and I related well to one another.

He had an attractive wife, and the two would often invite me to their on-campus house for dinner. It didn't take long for rumors to fly that I was having an affair with Clare's wife, but the gossip simply reflected the fantasies of my classmates. By my second semester, my academic performance had begun to improve visibly. By the third term, I really took off, and my grades consistently ranked in the top two or three out of a class of thirty-five for the rest of my years at PMA. One year, I ranked top in my class and earned high honors.

PMA also allowed me to experiment with a variety of extracurricular activities. For a time, I worked for the school newspaper, The Reveille, but I wasn't much of a reporter. Being a bass drummer in the marching band was much more to my liking. I still remember marching in a Columbus Day parade down the main street in Peekskill with my large bass drum hoisted from my shoulders-a German shepherd leapt from the curb and began nipping at my heels before sinking its teeth into my leg. Undeterred, I insisted on finishing the parade before attending to my wound.

With Frantz's steady encouragement, I worked at my tennis game with passion and soon excelled. I loved representing the school in various competitions. By my senior year, I won the Westchester County singles tournament for private and parochial school teenage boys and was invited to join the Junior Davis Cup team from New York, which gave me the opportunity to practice in the professional stadium in Forest Hills with Pancho Segura, then one of the sport's great professionals. The thrill of those tennis experiences represented a high point of my high school years.

I matured tremendously during my teenage years at Peekskill Military Academy. My teachers and peers liked me and gave me two nicknames: "Duck" (because they claimed I waddled) and "Mr. Five O'Clock Shadow." By my junior year I was appointed an officer with the rank of first lieutenant. Being on the battalion staff accorded me certain privileges such as officer's quarters (still awfully spartan), later curfews, and opportunities to head into Peekskill on weekends.

I also discovered girls while at PMA. My first experience came the summer after my sophomore year when I worked as a lifeguard at a hotel near my grandparents' farm. There I met a college-aged girl who took more than a casual interest in me. The relationship was brief, but she gave a terrific boost to my self-esteem at a time when I was figuring out my place in the world. Later, I had my first real girlfriend when I met Marian Rogers. Neighbors of my parents were friends with Marian's folks and made the introduction. For the next two years, Marian and I saw one another steadily-she'd come up to PMA on weekends to attend dances and other social functions.

Marian's father owned a pipe and tobacco store in Manhattan. He taught me the art of breaking in a pipe and how to distinguish good tobacco. Soon I became his unofficial distributor in Peekskill. I was the only one with this special blend of tobacco, and it was 100 percent legal! I still have a black-and-white photo of me wearing a sweater and leaning back in a comfortable chair with crossed legs, confidently clutching my pipe. Whatever serenity that picture may have shown, I never felt it once I headed off into the real world.

During my years at PMA, my parents were regular visitors. Sometimes they'd arrive together, while on other occasions my father would drive up alone. Either way, my father never failed to make his presence known to all and always eclipsed my mother when they came together. Chomping on a big cigar, he'd typically beckon my friends and regale them with stories and jokes. I was embarrassed and proud all at the same time.

By now, my father was engaged in his steel importing business operating under the name the American Steel Company. To outward appearances, the business seemed hugely successful as my father lived extravagantly. He drove expensive cars, owned tons of clothes, and took a haircut and manicure weekly. I learned later, though, that all was not as it seemed. The business was highly cyclical and did well only during steel industry strikes, which pushed up prices and profit margins for my father's company. Also, working at the company one summer, I noticed my father and his partner seemed constantly to be in a competition on who could run up the largest expense account. I thought such a practice represented a bad culture for building a business, and it troubled me that the company was absorbing personal expenditures.

Copyright © 2006 by Sanford I. Weill

About the Author

Sanford I. Weill is Chairman Emeritus of Citigroup Inc., the diversified global financial services company formed in 1998 through the merger of Citicorp and Travelers Group. Mr. Weill retired as CEO of Citigroup on October 1, 2003, and served as Chairman until April 18, 2006.

Judah S. Kraushaar, the former director of the Global Financial Services Equity Research team at Merrill Lynch, has been consistently ranked as the banking industry's top securities analyst by investor surveys from The Wall Street Journal, Institutional Investor, and Fortune. He and his wife, Michele, and their three children live in Westchester County, New York.