In
a Broker's Notes, Trouble for Salomon
By GRETCHEN MORGENSON
NY Times, September 22, 2002
Carol
Halebian for The New York Times
Philip
L. Spartis with some of the notes he took while he was a broker at Salomon
Smith Barney
AS investigators pore over WorldCom,
the telecommunications giant that collapsed in July, their work has
increasingly become a study of the close and intricate relationship between
it and its equally large financial partner, Citigroup.
The prosecutors,
securities regulators and, more recently, Congressional committees trying to
piece together that relationship have focused so far on why Citigroup's
brokerage firm, Salomon Smith Barney, allocated a million shares of hot new
stock offerings to WorldCom executives. They are trying to determine whether
those allocations, which usually generated large, instant and virtually
risk-free profits, were given in exchange for investment banking assignments
from the company.
But new evidence
suggests problems in other areas of the Citigroup empire's relationship with
WorldCom, while further illuminating those that have already come to light.
A lawsuit filed
by a former high-level broker in Salomon's office in Atlanta indicates that
different, ostensibly independent, businesses within Salomon shared
significant information about WorldCom employees' investing plans, putting
Salomon in a position to profit at the expense of those customers. Notebooks
and diaries kept by the broker also contain more examples of how Salomon's
star research analyst, Jack B. Grubman, served as a nexus through which
privileged information flowed between telecommunications companies and
Salomon, and among nominally distinct units within Citigroup.
The notes also
show the potential conflicts of interest that can arise at huge financial
conglomerates and the perils that consumers may face when they entrust these
companies with control over many aspects of their lives.
The lawsuit was
filed last week by Philip L. Spartis, who handled the WorldCom employee
stock option plan and the accounts of many top WorldCom executives and
officers. His notes, which fill seven spiral notebooks and three calendars,
detail the daily conversations he had with clients and with other Salomon
employees from 1997 to 2001. Salomon fired him this year for what it called
job abandonment.
Mr. Spartis and
Amy Elias, a broker who worked with him, are suing Citigroup for wrongful
termination. Mr. Spartis handed over his notebooks last week to Eliot
Spitzer, the New York attorney general, who is investigating whether Mr.
Grubman's role as a close adviser to Salomon's telecommunications clients
colored his research coverage of them and encouraged him to be too upbeat
about the companies for too long.
The extent of the
association between WorldCom and Salomon may also get a fresh look in
Congress as some lawmakers question whether eliminating barriers between
investment banks and commercial banks in 1999 was good for consumers.
Representative John J. LaFalce, a New York Democrat and the ranking minority
member on the House Financial Services Committee, has asked the committee
chairman to investigate whether conflicts between the banking and investment
advisory arms of Citigroup and other banking behemoths put clients at risk.
"What is
striking is how many pages of detail there are" in the notebooks, said
Jeffrey L. Liddle, a lawyer representing Mr. Spartis in his suits against
Salomon. "It tells you that the 18 pages that Salomon produced to the
House Financial Services Committee was inadequate. If one guy out of the
entire system has this in his daily notebooks there's a lot of other
information that has yet to be turned over and reviewed."
A Salomon
spokeswoman said, "Though we have not yet seen this newest claim, his
numerous past claims have been without merit." She refused to comment
on specifics or to make executives available.
Mr. Spartis may
also shed light on the symbiotic dealings of WorldCom and Salomon. He
managed the accounts of Scott D. Sullivan, the former WorldCom chief
financial officer who was indicted Aug. 1 in the multibillion-dollar
accounting scandal at the company, for example. He also managed the account
of Stiles A. Kellett Jr., a WorldCom director who is under fire for his role
in approving a $400 million loan the company made to its chief executive,
Bernard J. Ebbers, who has since resigned.
PERHAPS the most
intriguing entries in Mr. Spartis's diaries involve the administration of
WorldCom's stock option plan, particularly at the end of 1999.
WorldCom issued
millions of stock options to its executives and employees each year, and as
WorldCom's stock climbed in the late 1990's, they exercised millions of
options every year. In 1998, for example, WorldCom employees bought 49
million shares using options, about 5 percent of the shares outstanding. In
1999, employees exercised options on an additional 61 million shares.
Salomon was the
only brokerage firm that WorldCom's employees could use to exercise their
options. In 1999, Salomon gave Mr. Spartis a plaque for managing the
WorldCom plan, which generated more revenue that year than any other at the
firm. Over the four years before he was fired, he generated $2.3 million a
year, on average, in gross commissions.
Salomon
administers stock option plans for more companies than any other Wall Street
firm, according to stock plan specialists. Its recent clients have included AT&T,
Verizon
Communications, Tyco
International, Toys
"R" Us,
Compaq, and Electronic
Data Systems.
Under WorldCom's
plan, the annual vesting date for options — when employees could exercise
their right to buy WorldCom shares at a discount — was the first day of
trading in January. Advance knowledge of how many WorldCom employees had
arranged to exercise their options and immediately sell their shares was a
potentially valuable piece of information. Someone who knew that a lot of
stock would be for sale, for example, could have profited handsomely (and
virtually risk-free) by borrowing shares and selling them in anticipation
that the big sale by employees would drive down the price. When stock fell,
the so-called short-seller could buy back shares at lower prices, return the
borrowed stock and pocket the difference.
On the other
hand, if someone knew that most employees planned to exercise their options
and keep the shares, the resulting flood of buy orders would drive up the
stock price. Traders who knew such a flood was coming could profit by buying
shares in December and selling them when the price spiked in January.
Mr. Spartis
recalled a conference call at the end of 1999 in which Michael Santomossimo,
an employee in Salomon's stock option administration group in New York,
suggested that they give Michael P. Molnar, then managing director of global
retail sales and trading, a "heads up" about the number of options
that would be vesting.
"It seemed
very routine for him to do this," Mr. Spartis said. "Santomossimo
told Molnar that we have a major vesting coming up. Molnar asked how many
WorldCom options would be vesting and how many orders to sell were in the
electronic queue." Such information is not available publicly.
"I told him
I didn't have those numbers off the top of my head," Mr. Spartis
recalled. "And I thought, `I wouldn't tell you if I did.' " To Mr.
Spartis, giving away such information meant that the firm's trading desk
could be in a position to profit at the expense of his customers because
shorting the stock could exaggerate any declines and selling into a rally
could blunt the gain. In industry parlance this is known as "front
running," or trading ahead of customers, and is forbidden by the
Securities and Exchange Commission and by Salomon's own code of ethics.
Although Mr.
Spartis declined to share the information with others at Salomon, he
recalled, Mr. Santomossimo said he could provide the figures Mr. Molnar
wanted. The three men made a date to talk again before the market opened on
Jan. 3, 2000.
Mr. Spartis said
that before the market opened that day there were several conversations
about the hundreds of thousands of shares waiting to be sold. One involved
whether to execute each order individually and give WorldCom employees the
actual prices at which the trades occurred or to bunch up all the orders and
give all the sellers the average price received for those large sales. Mr.
Molnar, the New York executive, decided to group the shares and put an
average price on them, Mr. Spartis recalled. "I was given one price and
every trade was assigned that price," he said. WorldCom shares rose
after the trades were executed in batches, Mr. Spartis recalled. This could
have indicated that a large short-seller had closed out his position.
"Should the
trading desk have had that information?" asked William Fleckenstein, a
money manager at Fleckenstein Capital in Seattle. "My guess is probably
not. If they used it to get a better execution for the customer, God bless 'em.
But if they used it to profit for the firm disproportionately, it's
wrong."
A study of the
prices that WorldCom employees received on their trades may be worthwhile
and would indicate whether the employees received good executions.
Mr. Spartis
recalled that he was disappointed in the prices at which many of his
customers' trades were executed. "For larger trades, the executions
were sloppy, delayed, away from the market at times and embarrassing,"
he said. "When we would challenge the traders, they wouldn't do
anything about it." He also remembered that on many occasions "the
stock would take off" after options were exercised.
Administering
stock option plans is not always profitable, but firms want the business
because it brings in customer assets that can earn fees when invested
elsewhere. To woo clients, the biggest brokerage firms often underbid the
transfer agents, who used to manage the plans but not the assets generated
as a result.
According to Mr.
Spartis, after Salomon won the exclusive right to WorldCom's stock option
administration, the firm encouraged its brokers to offer clients mortgages
that used the stock they held in their accounts as collateral. "I'm
sure people have lost their homes," Mr. Spartis said. "The firm's
objective seemed to be to get every dollar from every corner there
was."
Salomon also
became much more lax in approving loans for people who wanted to buy more
stock than they had the money for, Mr. Spartis said. "Prior to the
bubble, margin loans had to be preapproved before you could commit to the
client," he said. "There were three approval levels that margin
loans had to go through where compliance people considered suitability. But
later, our margin loans were processed without any questions."
During the boom
years at WorldCom, in the late 1990's, Mr. Spartis earned enough money to
put him in the top ranks of Salomon's brokers. But his fortunes began to
fall with those of his clients at WorldCom when that company's stock began
to plummet in the fall of 2000. Several WorldCom employees who were his
clients eventually sued him, contending that they borrowed money from
Salomon to exercise stock options and then lost millions when they held onto
the shares as they fell. Most of the suits have been dropped in recent
months, but Mr. Spartis has filed third-party suits against Mr. Grubman,
contending that Mr. Grubman's unceasing promotion of WorldCom shares was
responsible for many clients' losses.
Many entries in
Mr. Spartis's notebooks relate to Mr. Grubman's upbeat comments over the
years about the telecommunications companies he followed as Salomon's most
powerful analyst. Anytime Mr. Grubman spoke on the firm's internal
communications system, Mr. Spartis took notes.
Other entries
confirm that Mr. Grubman also had a role at Salomon that would not be viewed
as traditional for a research analyst. For instance, in August 1999, Mr.
Spartis recorded a conversation he had with Mr. Ebbers's personal chief
financial officer. Mr. Spartis quoted him as saying that Mr. Grubman had
recommended that Mr. Ebbers deal with Rick Olson, a private client broker in
Salomon's office in Los Angeles. Analysts do not usually give personal
advice to or solicit business from the executives of companies they are
responsible for analyzing; to do so gives the appearance of a conflict of
interest.
Another series of
conversations shows that telecommunications executives hoping to raise money
on Wall Street did indeed need to court Mr. Grubman. In August 1998, for
example, Mr. Spartis introduced executives at EconoPhone, a small, private
telecommunications concern based in Paramus, N.J., to investment bankers at
Salomon to discuss a public offering of EconoPhone's shares. After a meeting
among EconoPhone executives, Salomon bankers, Mr. Grubman and Robert
Waldman, a debt analyst at the firm, the broker's notes indicate, Mr.
Grubman rejected the idea of an offering. According to Mr. Spartis's
conversation with one of the bankers at the meeting, Mr. Grubman said
EconoPhone was not a good candidate because it had "limited
bandwidth."
Mr. Grubman made
the right call on EconoPhone, as it turned out. Morgan
Stanley did the
underwriting in May 1999. EconoPhone, which has since changed its name to
Destia and merged with Viatel, filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection
two years later.
MR. SPARTIS'S
dealings with WorldCom executives also provide a glimpse into how that
company was run. In 1997, for example, after Mr. Spartis won WorldCom's
employee stock option plan for Salomon, he tried to persuade the company's
executives to set up a deferred compensation plan that the firm would
manage.
But according to
Mr. Spartis, Mr. Sullivan, the WorldCom chief financial officer, rejected
the idea because such a plan required the use of a so-called rabbi trust,
which makes the officers of a company liable if the company goes bankrupt.
"Scott said if we can do it without a rabbi trust we might think about
it," Mr. Spartis recalled. "It was kind of disturbing to me,
talking about bankruptcy and WorldCom in the same sentence in 1997."
WorldCom filed
for bankruptcy protection in July, shortly after it disclosed $3.8 billion
in accounting misstatements stretching back to 1999. Since the filing, the
company has uncovered an additional $3.2 billion in accounting
irregularities. Mr. Sullivan was indicted on fraud charges in the case in
August.
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