The Fourth Estate (67 page)

TENTION.

After he had
read the piece for a second time, Townsend asked Heather to get Tom on the
line, and after she had done that, to book him onto the earliest possible
flight to New York.

Toni wasn’t
surprised that his client rang back within minutes of the fax being placed on
his desk. After all, he had been looking for an opportunity to get his hands on
a substantial shareholding in the New York Star for over a decade.

Townsend
listened intently as Tom told him everything he had found out about Mr. Lloyd
Summers and why his art gallery was looking for new premises. When he had
exhausted all his questions, he instructed his lawyer to arrange a meeting with
Summers as quickly as possible. “I’ll be flying to New York tomorrow morning,”
he added.

“No need for you
to come all this way, Keith. I can always see Summers on your behalf.”

“No,” Townsend
replied. “With the Star it’s personal. I want to close this particular deal
myself.”

“Keith, you do
realize that if you succeedyou’ll have to become an American citizen,” said
Tom.

“As I’ve told
you many times, Tom, never.”

He put the phone
down and jotted some notes on a pad. Once lie had worked out how much he was
willing to offer, he picked up the receiver and asked Heather what time his
flight was.

If Armstrong
wasn’t on the same plane, he could close a deal with Summers before anyone
realized that a lease on an art gallery in SoHo could hold the key to his
becoming the owner of the New York Star.

“My bet is that
Townsend will be on the first flight to New York,” said Armstrong, once Russell
Critchley had finished reading the article out to him.

‘Then you’d
better be on the same plane,” said his New York attorney, sitting on the end of
his bed.

“No way,” said
Armstrong. “Why alert the bastard to the fact that we know as much as he does? No,
my best bet is to make a move even before his plane touches down. Set up an
appointment to see Summers as soon as possible ...”

“I doubt if the
gallery opens much before ten.”

“Then make sure
you’re outside waiting for him at five to ten.”

“How much leeway
have I got?”

“Give him
anything he wants,” said Armstrong. “Even offer to buy him a new gallery. But
whatever you do, don’t let Townsend get anywhere near him, because if we can
convince Summers to back us, that will open the door to his mother.”

“Right,” said
Critchley, pulling on a sock. “I’d better get moving.”

‘Just make sure
you’re outside the gallery before it opens,” said Armstrong. He paused. “And if
Townsend’s lawyer gets there before you, run him over.”

Critchley would
have laughed, but he wasn’t entirely sure that his client was joking.

Tom was waiting
outside the customs hall when his client came through the swing doors.

‘The news isn’t
good, Keith,” were his first words after they had shaken hands.

“What do you
mean?” said Townsend as they headed toward the exit.

“Armstrong
couldn’t have got to New York ahead of me, because I know he was still at his
desk at the Citizen when I flew out of Heathrow.”

“He may still be
at his desk right now, for all I know,” said Tom, “but Russell Critchley, his
New York attorney, had an appointment with Summers earlier this morning.”

Townsend stopped
in the middle of the road, ignoring the screeching of brakes and the immediate
cacophony of taxi horns.

“Did they sign a
deal?”

I have no idea,”
said Tom. “All I can tell you is that when I got into my office, Summers’s
secretary had left a message on my machine saying that your appointment had
been canceled.”

“Damn. Then our
first stop has to be the gallery,” said Townsend, finally stepping onto the
sidewalk. “They can’t have signed a contract yet. Damn.

Damn,” he
repeated. I should have let you see him in the first place.”

“He’s agreed to
pledge you his 5 percent share in the Star if you’ll put up the money for a new
gallery,” said Critchley.

“And what’s that
going to cost me?” asked Armstrong, putting down his fork.

“He hasn’t found
the right building yet, but he thinks around three million.”

“How Much?”

“YOU Would of
course own the lease on the building. .

“Of course.”

11
...
and as the gallery is registered as a
non-profitmaking charity, there are some tax advantages.”

There was a long
silence on the other end of the line before Armstrong said, “So how did you
leave it?”

“When he
reminded me for the third time that he had an appointment with Townsend later
this morning, I said yes, Subject to contract.”

“Did YOU sign
anything?”

“No. I explained
that you were on your way over from London, and I didn’t have the authority to
do so.”

“Good. Then we
still have a little time to...”

I doubt it,” said
Russell. “Summers knows only too well that he’s got you by the balls.”

“It’s when
people think they’ve got me by the balls,” said Armstrong, “that I most enjoy
screwing them.”

WALL STREET
JOURNAL

12 NOVEMBER 1986

N
ew York Stocks Dive Record 86.61 Points
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,” Armstrong began. 1 have called this press conference to
announce that I informed the Securities Exchange Commission this morning that
it is my intention to make an official takeover bid for the New York Star I am
delighted to report that a major shareholder in the paper, Mrs.

Nancy Summers,
has sold her stock to Armstrong Communications at a price of $4. 10 per share.”

Although some
journalists continued to write down Armstrong’s every word, this piece of news
had been flagged up in most papers for over a week. Most of the
journalists’pencils remained poised as they waited for the real news.

* “But I am
especially proud to announce today,” continued Armstrong, “that Mr. Lloyd
Summers, the son of Mrs.

Summers and the
director of the foundation which bears her name, has also pledged the 5 percent
of the company held in trust to my cause.

“it will come as
no surprise to you that it is my intention to continue to support the
outstanding work the Summers Foundation does in promoting the careers of young
artists and sculptors who would not non-nally be given the chance to exhibit in
a major gallery. I have, as many of you will know, had a lifelong involvement
with the arts, in particular with young artists.”

Not one journalist
present could remember a single artistic event Armstrong had ever attended, let
alone supported. Most of the pencils remained poised.

“With Mr.
Summers’s backing, I am now in control of 19 percent of the Star’s stock, and I
look forward in the near future to becoming the majority shareholder and taking
over as chairman of the paper at the AGM next month.”

Armstrong looked
up from the statement that had been prepared for him by Russell Critchley, and
smiled at the sea of faces. I shall now be happy to answer your questions.”

Russell felt
that Dick handled the first few questions well, but then he pointed to a woman
seated in the third row.

“Janet Brewer,
Wasl7ington Post. Mr. Armstrong, may I ask for your reaction to the press
release issued this morning by Keith Townsend?”

I never read Mr.
Townsend’s press releases,” said Armstrong. “Fhey’re about as accurate as his
newspapers.”

-Fhen allow me
to enlighten you,” she said, looking down at a sheet of paper. “it seems that
Mr. Townsend has the backing of the bankers J.P. Grenville, who have pledged 11
percent of their portfolio stock in support of his bid to take over the Star.
With his own shareholding, that gives him over 15 percent.”

Armstrong looked
straight at her and said, “As chairman of the Star, I shall look forward to
welcoming Mr. Townsend to next month’s AGM-as a minority shareholder.”

This time the
pencils wrote down his every word.

Sitting in his
newly acquired apartment on the thirtyseventh floor of Trump Tower, Armstrong
read over Townsend’s press release. He chuckled when he came to the paragraph
in which Townsend praised the work of the Summers Foundation. ‘Too late,” he
said out loud. ‘That 5 percent belongs to me.”

He immediately
gave instructions to his brokers to buy up any Star stock that came on the
market, whatever the price. The shares rocketed as it became clear that
Townsend had given the same order. Some financial analysts suggested that
because of “a strong personal animosity,” both men were paying well above the
real value.

For the next
four weeks Armstrong and Townsend, accompanied by a battery of lawyers and
accountants, spent every waking hour in planes, trains and cars as they
zigzagged across America, trying to convince banks and institutions, trusts and
even the occasional wealthy widow to support them in the battle to take over
the Star The chairman of the paper, Cornelius J. Adams IV, announced that he
would hand over the reins of power at the AGM to whichever contender controlled
51 percent of the shares. With only two weeks to go before the Star’s AGM, the
financial editors were still unable to agree on who had the largest
shareholding in the company. Townsend announced that he now controlled 46
percent of the stock, while Armstrong claimed that he had 41 percent. The
analysts therefore concluded that whichever one of them was able to capture the
10 percent held by the Applebaum Corporation must surely carry the day.

Vic Applebaum
was determined to enjoy his fifteen minutes of fame, and declared to anyone who
cared to listen that it was his intention to see both would-be proprietors
before he came to a final decision. He chose the Tuesday before the AGM to
conduct the interviews which would decide on whom he should bestow his favor.

The two rivals’
lawyers met on neutral ground, and agreed that Armstrong should be allowed to
see Applebaum first, which Tom Spencer assured his client was a tactical error.
Townsend agreed, until Armstrong emerged from the meeting clutching the share
certificates which proved he was in possession of Applebaum’s 10 percent.

“How did he
manage that?” Townsend asked in disbelief.

Tom didn’t have
an answer until he read the first edition of the New York Times at breakfast the
following morning. Its media correspondent informed readers on the front page
that Armstrong had not spent a great deal of time explaining to Mr. Applebaum
how he would manage the Star, but had concentrated more on telling him in
Yiddish that he had never really recovered from losing his entire family in the
Holocaust, and that he had ended their meeting by disclosing that the proudest
moment in his life had been when the prime minister of Israel had appointed him
as the country’s roving ambassador to the USSR, with a special brief to assist
Russian Jews who wished to emigrate to Israel. At this point Applebaum
apparently broke down in tears, handed over the stock and refused to see
Townsend.

Armstrong
announced that as he now controlled 51 percent of the company, he was therefore
the new owner of the New York Star. The Wall Street Journal concurred,
declaring that the Star’s AGM would be nothing more than an anointing ceremony.
But it added a postscript pointing out that Keith Townsend shouldn’t be too depressed
about having lost the paper to his great rival. Because of the huge rise in the
share price, he would make a profit in excess of $20 million.

The New York
Times arts section reminded its readers that the Summers Foundation would be
opening an avant-garde exhibition on Thursday evening.

After the press
barons’ claims of support for Lloyd Summers and the foundation’s work, it said,
it would be interesting to see if either of them bothered to turn up.

Tom Spencer
advised Townsend that it might be wise to drop in for a few minutes, as
Armstrong was certain to be there, and you never knew what you might pick up on
such occasions.

Townsend
regretted his decision to attend the exhibition moments after he arrived. He
circled the room once, glanced at the selection of paintings chosen by the
trustees and concluded that they were, without exception, what Kate would have
described as “pretentious rubbish.” He decided to leave as quickly as possible.
He had successfully negotiated a route to the door when Summers tapped a
microphone and called for silence. The director then proceeded to “say a few
words.” Townsend checked his watch. When he looked up he saw Armstrong, firmly
clutching a catalog, standing next to Summers and beaming at the assembled
guests.

Summers began by
saying how sad he was that his mother was unable to be with them because of a
prolonged illness, and delivered a lengthy disquisition extolling the virtues
of the artists whose works he had selected. He declared twenty minutes later
how delighted he was that the New York Star’s new chairman had been able to
find the time to attend “one of our little soir6es.”